


Remember Me

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [62]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Stephen Strange, Stubborn Tony Stark, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-10-29 09:37:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17805578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Tony doesn’t remember meA wind tunnel, that was what it felt like. Tossed into a chaotic storm of sensations and emotions too violent to process. It roared through him while his body clamped down in denial, a silent, unseen breaking of a man.





	1. Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Listen...I had to do this eventually.

   It was raining, hard. Stephen found himself standing at the large oval window flexing his fingers and trying to tune out enough of the world to numb the aching joints. The damp was prone to making them flare and had the added effect on this dreary morning, of affecting his other sore muscles after a long and arduous confrontation in India yesterday.

   He was grateful to have the day off, to laze around the Sanctum and waste away the hours and his aging body with study and perhaps a simple spell or two. Wong was due to meet with him later, which he planned to take full advantage of, which essentially meant distracting him from the reports and the library for a few hours.

   It would be a good day, he decided. He would make it one. It was a far better option instead of wallowing about the less then pleasant pain he was in or sleeping the day away as an artificial escape. He liked to think he had come a long way since then.

   There was a nearly silent creak of the floorboards behind him and Stephen smiled. Tony was forever trying to sneak up on him and forever failing, “good morning.” He called, without turning around.

   He heard Tony sigh dramatically before pressing up against his back and sliding his arms around his waist, squeezing lightly, “good morning,” he murmured, leaning up to press a kiss to the back of Stephen’s neck.

   He hummed, eyes fluttering closed as he felt his warm breath fan across the sensitive skin. Tony simply stayed there for a moment, not saying a word and Stephen leaned back into him, despite his greater height.

   Finally, after several minutes of comfortable silence, one of Tony’s hands released him, slid down his arm to take his hand, “how bad does it hurt today?”

   Stephen shrugged, “it’s been worse.”

   He tutted in disapproval, let him go completely and came to stand next to him, pressing gentle kisses to the scarred and pale flesh, “that means pretty bad.”

   Stephen just shrugged again. He watched as Tony’s brow furrow, as though he was considering whether or not to bring something up and Stephen had to stifle a sigh. For the past two weeks that expression had been coming and going. He was dying of curiosity, of course he was, but he was also a little scared that he might already know what was on his mind.

   Tony looked out the window and into the pouring rain, still gripping his hand like it was made of glass, “what do you think about going out to dinner tonight? Somewhere nice?”

   Stephen watched the side profile of his face, the worry in his eyes that set his heart pounding and mind working double time not to give away his own, “somewhere nice?” he tried for teasing. “what’s the special occasion?”

   Tony shot him a quick smile, “nothing, just been wanting to take you out.”

   Stephen wasn’t completely sure how to formulate his answer, his mind filled with uncertainty, both scared and excited at the prospect of what Tony was really asking, what he might be planning, what Stephen had been suspecting for a month now.

   Before he could answer, there was a shrill ring from Tony’s phone. The man never parted from the damn thing, even when he was still dressed in PJs and a robe. He saw the flash of frustration in Tony’s eyes and struggled to hide his own relief as he fished out the device.

   Tony pressed it to his ear and took a few steps away, Stephen was sure he could hear the usual Avenger notification. He was unsurprised when Tony hung up with a groan and an apologetic smile at Stephen, “duty calls.”

   Stephen’s hand shot out and grabbed the collar of his robe to reel him in, ignoring the spasms of pain that reverberated through the limb. Tony came willingly, with a soft smile as Stephen pressed a kiss to his lips, with one long inhale. When he broke away, he levelled Tony with a stern gaze, “be careful, love you.”

   He laughed lightly, “always am,” he patted Stephen’s hand. “I’ll be back in time for dinner tonight, even if I have to dump the paperwork with Steve.”

   Then he was off, making his way quickly upstairs to change then step into the Suit, standing at attention in their bedroom.

   Stephen watched him go, the usual whirlwind of emotions having its way with him while he struggled to control himself.

\---

   It was mid day and while it was still drizzling outside, the downpour had long tapered off. His hands still ached, but they were greatly improved after a long indulgent meditation session. He was waiting for Wong, due to arrive in an hour when in the phone call came.

   He didn’t bother looking at the screen, anticipating Tony’s post-battle call where he would reassure and regale Stephen with the situation, “hey Tony, how did it go?”

   There was a pause that immediately caught Stephen’s attention, his back straightening as he immediately went to his feet, “Tony?”

   “Stephen, its Bruce.”

   His heart stopped, even as he forced himself to take a steady breath, willed the avalanche of panicked emotions to stay back. It was a rare a thing when Bruce or other Avenger called but it rarely came with good news.

   “How bad is it?”

  There was a nervous little huff of breath across the line and Stephen bit back a growl of irritation, “he’s in no danger of dying.”

   That was good news but also crafty, even for Bruce.

   “Listen, we need you to come down. I don’t think I should explain over the phone and we could use your medical expertise. I swear he is…physically fine though.”

   Stephen’s teeth gritted, his eyes falling closed, “two minutes, I’ll be there.”

   “Thank you.”

   He hung up the phone and the silence in the Sanctum suddenly felt deafening. _Tony was alive_ , the only fact he was holding on to right now, _he was in no danger of dropping dead,_ all good things. Then why was his stomach rolling with apprehension? why were his instincts stirring with unease? Because Stephen knew better then most that there were worse things then death.

   He took an entire sixty seconds to calm himself, to craft the same facade he usually reserved for the Avengers, for surgeries, for emergencies. Emotions in times of crisis were nothing but a distraction, and more often then not, one he could not afford.

   He made his portal to the hallway outside the medical wing of the compound and stepped through.

   He did not expect to find Peter, still clad in his Spider-Man suit, pacing a tight, distressed circle there. The kid usually went home after a mission and this immediately sent his heart pounding again, his ignored it in favour of getting Peter’s attention.

   “Peter.”

   His head snapped up, he stopped pacing and stared at him wide-eyed as if horrified to see Stephen standing in that hallway, definitely not good.

   “Dr. Strange?!”

   Stephen took a deep breath, “Bruce called me. Care to explain what’s going on?”

   The kid’s entire expression dropped, his eyes going to the floor as though he couldn’t bear to look at him and Stephen had to resist the urge to take the boy by the shoulders and shake an answer out of him.

   Peter swallowed thickly, toyed with the mask in his hands, “its Mr. Stark. On the mission he…he…I was trying to get out of the way! he came to help…I-” he cut off abruptly, his usually innocent brown eyes going glossy with unshed tears and guilt.

   He should try to comfort him, assure him that whatever happened wasn’t his fault. Tony would expect him to. But he couldn’t, his mind trying to make sense of the stuttered words, fear of what they meant distracting him from the usually soft spot he had for the kid.

   “Peter.”

   They both looked up to find Natasha Romanov stepping out of one of the rooms. She too, was still in her mission gear. Her all black attire and assortment of weapons leaving the impression of somber deadliness. It the years since Titan, Stephen had learned to respect the woman greatly, despite his aversion to her…violent methods.

   “You’re Aunt left a message. I think you should give her a call.”

   Stephen didn’t need to be a genius to know it was a lie, but Peter nodded dutifully and all but fled the scene.

   Her scrutinizing gaze fell on him and it was something of a relief. She wasn’t one to mince words or waste time on pleasantries, “you might want to sit down.”

   Stephen stared back at her, unblinking, “no.”

   She nodded, a small sympathetic smile quirking the corner of her lips and Stephen wondered how fabricated it was. They knew each other only as colleagues, having fought together numerous times over the past four years, but Stephen steadfastly refused to be officially part of the Avengers or engage in a non-professional capacity.

   “Alright,” she crossed her arms and this time the regret in her eyes seemed sincere. “During the battle today, Parker found himself in trouble and Tony went in to offer backup. He was hit unexpectedly by a stray concentrated energy source.”

   Stephen’s jaw clenched but managed not to show any other outward signs of his distress.

   “The suit managed to protect his body from any burns or serious injuries. However, it did blast him straight through a warehouse building and into a metal support beam. The impact bruised his ribs and once we brought him to the infirmary for the usual check up…” she trailed off unexpectedly.

   Stephen’s breath came short. The moment Black Widow hesitates to give a verdict in the midst of a mission report is the moment a man could feel true fear. He clung desperately to his detached and analytical mindset, refused to acknowledge worse case scenarios, “continue Romanov.”

   Respect glinted in her eyes and by the moment he could see her sheading the soldier skin she usually wore, Stephen would not allow himself that luxury, not here, “while examining him Bruce noticed he was making some odd comments. We had FRIDAY, run a full diagnostic and found he also sustained a concussion which has greatly affected his memory.”

   Stephen didn’t even need to hear her next words to know what she was going to say, his heart plummeting of its own accord and his knees suddenly feeling incredibly weak.

   “We didn’t check the limits too intensively yet…but he doesn’t seem to have a recollection of you or Titan.”

   A wind tunnel, that was what it felt like. Tossed into a chaotic storm of sensations and emotions too violent to process. It roared through him while his body clamped down in denial, a silent, unseen breaking of a man.

_Tony doesn’t remember me._

   It was inconceivable. Four years…four long years of ups and real lows, of struggle and healing, of love, gone in a snap.

   He didn’t dare cry in front of this woman, this cold, calculating woman. It felt like too much of a sacrifice and Stephen could already feel himself retreating. He was backing away into the precious fortress of his mind, the one he hardly went to these days, because of Tony, because he loved him.

   It was horrifying to realize it didn’t matter, Tony didn’t know he loved him. He securely closed the gate to that fortress, closed his eyes and put himself under lock and key. This was a trial, one of dozens he has had to face. If he could survive Dormammu and the Mad Titan, then he could survive this too…the only difference was he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

   He found his mind turning to the only thing he knew. His expertise as a doctor hardly ever fell in with amnesia patients. Occasionally it was a side effect, but he dealt with the surgery, he removed pressure of swelling brains, removed bullets and glass and nails, all of which would heal differently. Amnesia was a side effect that couldn’t be helped, and he knew that it came in various different forms and was a difficult thing to cure.

   He also knew that in cases of retrograde amnesia, a patient often regained full or partial memory but if Tony was suffering from anterograde amnesia, he would never regain them, would have problems developing new memories. This would be an easy description to give to a patient’s loved ones, but he also knew it was unrealistic to an extent…because Stephen has never been that lucky.

   “Stephen?”

   He looked at her, the soft confusion in her eyes, well-hid by her impassive mask. She wasn’t the only one who knew how to hide in plain sight, “has anyone examined him yet since discovering the amnesia?”

   She shook her head, “no…we were hoping…if you feel capable that you would do it.”

   Bad practice. A doctor should never examine family or loved ones. It doesn’t stop him from nodding, “I’ll do it. Give me a minute.”

   He can feel her examining him, deciding for herself whether or not he is fit to do this. She must find him acceptable because she gives a sharp nod and disappears through that door again. He wants to collapse, would welcome the feeling of the cold tile floor knocking him into reality. He doesn’t, the Cloak fluttering around him and keeping him from doing just that.

   Stephen stares at the doors. They are insignificant, dull green, worn with dirt from constant use, metal handles standard rectangles imbedded with small screws, small darkened kick board along the bottom. Insignificant, yet walking through them was going to break Stephen’s heart in two.

_Breathe._

   Stephen closes his eyes.

_Breathe._

   Remembers the feel of Tony’s hand on his, the press of lips.

_Breathe._

   Feels the hole in his chest, tearing and widening like an empty pit.

_Breathe._

   Remembers the promise to be careful.

_Breathe._

   Remembers what it felt like to hear him say, I love you.

_Breathe._

   Retreats into the safety of his mind, where his feelings don’t matter, just the mission.

_Breathe._

  He pushes open the doors and strides into the small room.


	2. First Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen faces Tony since being forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow but sure.  
> So. Much. Dialogue.

   The moment Stephen stepped through the doors, it felt like his blood had turned to ice. The scene in front of him a familiar one while being simultaneously all wrong. Tony was sat in the bed, looking mostly fine except for the way his expression was twisted into a scowl as he glared at Bruce.

   He was still in the skin-tight athletic wear he seemed to prefer for the suit, and he was continuously tapping at his chest where the it was housed. Bruce, for his part, had his face twisted up in distress as he tapped away at a tablet and examined screens, while ignoring Tony’s clearly irritated comments of “what the hell is going on?”

   Stephen cleared his throat as he walked up to the bed, feeling distinctly like a death march. Tony’s head swivelled to look at him, his eyebrows going up in surprise, his eyes widening. Stephen found himself staring at them, those usually warm, humoured eyes, suddenly seeming horrifically empty.

   There was none of the love or softness there, not even a spark of recognition and the hole inside Stephen gaped open painfully.

   “Who are you and what the hell are you wearing?”

   Stephen took a shaky breath, lifted his hand when Bruce’s mouth opened, clearly intending to admonish him.

   “Woah, what happened there?”

   Stephen tensed, looking back at Tony whose eyes were latched onto that same scarred and trembling hand. He swore he could feel his heart crack at the curious tilt of his head, like it was one of his inventions to fix.

   He lowered his hand, wilfully pushed back memories of Tony caressing them, kissing them, massaging them on bad days. It was difficult, nearly impossible but Stephen worked to keep his voice firm and aloof, professional in the way only a doctor could, “my name is Dr. Stephen Strange. I’d be more then happy to explain to you what is happening if you would kindly control you over active mouth and brain.”

   Tony blinked. This was familiar, he wasn’t used to being talked at, he was used to being in complete control of every room, with every person bending to hear his opinions. It was an inherent characteristic of this man’s personality, his charisma like a vortex that could make you both hate and adore him.

   Not today, not this day.

   “Listen, here monk-”

   “T-Mr. Stark, this can either be dealt with quickly or I can restrain you to that bed until you are prepared to co-operate.”

   Tony’s eyes narrowed, sitting up straight and wincing at his ribs, “you think-”

   “Tony,” Bruce interrupted this time. “Just shut up and listen to him. He’s…a friend.”

   He watched as his head spun toward Bruce, a calculating look in his eyes, while the man himself stared back defiantly. For Stephen’s part, it was a shot to gut when Tony subsided, grumbling all the while. To know that in this moment, in this room, Bruce was who Tony would turn to, who he trusted.

   He felt Bruce’s concerned gaze on him, but he ignored it, soldiered on, “FIRDAY, please show me the diagnostic tests.”

   “Right away Dr. Strange.”

   The holograph appeared in front of him, showing the results of the scans and tests. Through it he saw Tony’s gaping, shaking his head in disbelief, “how are you synced up to her recognition and command protocol?”

   Stephen ignored him too, couldn’t bare anything else. Though this time he noted that his tone was less angry, more curious and a whole lot more suspicious. He would be, not even Bruce had access.

   The scans looked relatively normal. A severe concussion but it didn’t seem like he lost consciousness and there was only minor swelling, nothing that would go down on its own in a few days. On to a practical examination then.

   He waved away the image, so he was staring down at Tony again, who seemed to be trying to examine him, the way those intelligent eyes raked over his person. Stephen tried really hard to ignore the coldness in the them.

   “You’ve suffered a concussion-”

   “Yeah I got that. I’m fine. More importantly who are you and what is going on?”

   Bruce let out an exasperated sigh, it was almost enough to make Stephen crack a smile but not quite, “I’m getting to that Mr. Stark. If you’ll shut up now, we’ll get through this as painlessly as possible.” For him, not for Stephen.

   Before he could offer another remark, Stephen plowed ahead, “state you full name, where you are, and the year please.”

   Tony had crossed his arms. Bruce shook his head and typed away at his tablet, shooting Stephen weary looks every few seconds or so. Stephen said nothing, simply waited it out. Tony might hate being given directives, but he was also sensible enough to know when to take the path of least resistance.

   “Anthony Edward Stark, Avenger’s compound infirmary approximately forty minutes outside of New York City…” he paused there, expression puzzled and both Stephen and Bruce zeroed in on it. “20…2017? No 2018? One of those.” He finally stated, dismissively.

   Bruce met his eyes, his worry reflected in them. Nearly five years, completely erased. Stephen felt his breathing speed up, stinging in his eyes and nearly fled from the room. Bruce’s eyes were filled to bursting with pity and it was that expression alone, that hateful, loathsome expression that made Stephen stay. He reigned it in, looked down at Tony who seemed to have paled, clearly not the least bit oblivious to their silent exchange.

   Stephen swallowed thickly, “I have some simple questions Please answer them precisely and clearly and then we will be able explain what is going on.”

   For once Tony seemed to listen, Stephen wouldn’t be surprised if the man had already worked it out. Stephen cast his eyes about the room for a moment, trying to recall details from that time, stretching into the year before Thanos. They fell on where Tony’s hand was absently resting on the housing movement of his suit.

   “Do you remember how you got the concussion?”

   Tony looked up at him and blinked rapidly for a moment before his eyes drifted toward the door, “Peter,” he breathed. “Is he alright?”

   “He’s perfectly fine,” Stephen assured quickly, hating the bitterness that welled up inside him. “Anything else?”

   Tony tilted his head a little, that puzzled look returning along with frustration. There were few things Tony hated more then not knowing something. He turned to Bruce as though trying to piece something together, “were…was Steve and Natasha there?”

   Bruce looked at him nervously and Stephen grimaced. He had wanted to ease Tony into this, since he had already deduced the possibility that if he didn’t remember Titan or Thanos he might not recall the Rogues had returned.

   Stephen nodded, the news would be better coming from him.

   “Tony,” Bruce began with that gentle, timid tone that came naturally to him. “yeah. The concussion seems to have erased a large chunk of your memory…including how things got worked out with Steve, Nat, Sam, and Wanda.”

   Tony’s expression shuttered the moment the words left his mouth and Stephen winced, well-versed in the thunderstorm of emotions that accompanied that entire ordeal and the realization he would experience it all again…not a pleasant thought.

   “And Barnes?” he asked tightly, and Stephen admired the way he momentarily skipped over the information he was given about his memory.

   Bruce shook his head, “he’s been…exiled from the U.S and almost all European nations. He’s staying in Wakanda for now.”

   His entire posture relaxed instantly, his shoulders slumping and his eyes flickering closed for just a moment. Stephen frowned, not at his reaction but the absolute lack of surprise in his expression about the other Avengers.

   “Why aren’t you more surprised?” he asked.

   Tony looked up at him, that suspicion from before giving way to something else that he couldn’t identify. He shrugged, “I already guessed I must have lost some memory. It explains why Bruce is here, explains the others, explains your questions, and the fact that I don’t know who you are, but you’re hooked up to FRIDAY and clearly know me.”

   Stephen shook his head, “no, why aren’t you more surprised about the rogues?”

   Tony snorted a little, “I don’t know how long its been, but do we really still call them that?”

   “Only when you’re annoyed or want to annoy them,” the words slipped out automatically and Stephen regretted it the moment he saw Tony’s eyes spark with calculation again. He needed to handle one thing at a time. “Answer the question.”

   He sighed, crossed his arms, quickly becoming exasperated by the questioning no doubt, “I don’t know. I’m confused as to why or how their back but I…I can’t say I’m surprised because…well I _felt_ like they’ve been here.”

   Bruce looked over at him, excitement lighting in his eyes, but Stephen remained weary, “care to explain that better?”

   Tony grimaced, “I don’t doubt it’s a brain thing-”

   Stephen rolled his eyes, couldn’t help it.

   Tony narrowed his own, “hey I’m a genius but I haven’t dedicated my life to human biology so excuse me-”

   “He has,” Bruce offered helpfully.

   “What?”

   Stephen’s heart sunk at the surprise in his eyes, yet another thing he didn’t know about him. He cleared his throat, made sure he was standing straight, “I’m an actual Doctor which is why Bruce called me. A neurosurgeon to be exact.”

   “How did you manage that will the crippled hands?”

   “Tony, _shut it_ ,” Bruce snapped.

   Stephen was used to comments about his hands, he was used to the rude, the crude, and the jokes. He understood when someone on the team made a light-hearted comment or joke, he wasn’t particularly self-conscious anymore when a stranger stared. But he wasn’t used to it from Tony, not anymore. He used to do it all the time, ask nonchalant questions and honest inquiries like this, never meant any harm but it morphed over the years to a near constant praise. He simply wasn’t used to it and he found himself staring back at this man coldly, the distance between them infused from the injury suddenly feeling like miles.

   Tony for his part seemed to take Bruce’s warning seriously, a slight turn down of the lips before looking back at Stephen with an almost apologetic glance, almost. It didn’t stop his next words, however, “a surgeon though, that totally explains the attitude.”

   Stephen shook his head a little, forever in disbelief over the man’s ability to change the subject, “that feeling you mentioned, go back to that.”

   Tony frowned and so did Bruce. He could still read him so easily, Tony was clearly wondering just how much he had offended him, meanwhile Bruce was obviously confused as to why he was being so distant. Stephen for his part was mentally and emotionally exhausted and needed to get this done and find somewhere quiet to sit for awhile.

   Tony took a deep breath, swept a hand through his disheveled hair, his eyes going unfocused, “I just remember them not being here, but their presence feels recent. Like some part of me is aware that they’ve been around for awhile I just can’t remember how or when.”

   “That’s good,” Bruce said quickly.

   Stephen wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t a bad sign, but it also didn’t indicate a return of his memories.

   Then suddenly Tony sat up straight, eyes darting between them, “wait a minute. How much time _have_ I lost and where is Pepper?”

   Stephen’s breath caught, while Bruce’s expression shifted to bewilderment. Pepper, why hadn’t he realized that. His memory had erased Titan but not his relationship with Pepper, what a cruel fucking joke.

   Stephen wasn’t a jealous man and this time was no different. That fact did not, however, stop the way it felt like a knife had been plunged forcibly through his chest, strangling his words.

   “What about her?” Bruce asked.

   And jesus for a genius himself Banner was being fucking dense.

   Tony stared at him like he too thought he was being an idiot, “is she alright? You just told me I’ve lost time and I’ve had a concussion and she would usually be the first person down here if that was the case.”

   His eyes went wide in realization, immediately turning to Stephen with that hateful pity again. Tony for his part raised his hand and seemed to pale upon seeing the lack of a ring and he was looking between them again, head swivelling, “where is she? Is she ok?”

   Stephen took a deep breath. Things were getting out of hand too quickly, they were going about it all wrong, and he needed to take control right fucking now or else he was going to go crazy himself.

   Bruce was trying to reassure him while Tony’s tone grew increasingly hostile, Stephen took one more deep breath and then, “ _Enough!”_

   Both heads turned to look at him, one chastised the other defiant.

   He met Tony’s warm eyes and didn’t dare waver as he spoke, even as his heart splintered into a dozen pieces, “Bruce, has Ms. Potts been informed of Tony’s condition yet?”

   “No, I think she’s landing from the business trip in an hour or so.”

   “Wonderful, FRIDAY?”

   “Yes Dr. Strange?”

   “Would you please ask Ms. Romanov to inform Ms. Potts of Tony’s condition and clear the private runway for her landing?”

   “Done, anything else Dr. Strange?”

   “Yes, will you please gather Commander Rhodes, Mr. Parker, Ms. Romanov, and Captain Rogers outside room 2A please?”

   “Of course, Dr. Strange.”

   Tony’s expression hadn’t shifted much, instead staying locked on Stephen’s the entire time, but now his head tilted curiously.

   “Listen closely Tony, I believe you’ve lost an approximate time of five to six years, including some major events.”

   He saw his lover’s struggle to appear unaffected and he understood, Tony wasn’t one to show vulnerability in front of…a stranger. It still hurt and Stephen would have to live with that. He took another deep breath for the next part. His instincts were telling him not to do it, that a patient who just suffered a major trauma to the head should be on bed rest avoiding too much stimuli. Everything he was about to do went against everything he had ever learned but, Tony had never been a regular human and the man wouldn’t catch a moment’s rest until he understood what was happening.

   “If you are feeling up to it…I will have each of the people I just mentioned come in an explain certain aspects of the past few years slowly. It may or may not jog your memory, but it should help put you at ease.”

   Bruce was frowning, clearly disagreeing with his suggestion while Tony had the smallest confused smile, “how do you know me so well?” it was quiet, sincere, and weary enough to make Stephen’s eyes sting and his mind finally snap with the events of the day.

   “It doesn’t matter,” and he turned to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't just erase Stephen that would have been real cliché so instead I went super complicated and made him forget just about everything ;)  
> Side note: Sorry about Bruce. I feel like I gave him no personality lol.  
> Side Note x2: If you have not heard Pentatonix Sound Of Silence cover you have not lived.


	3. Love so Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is caught up on what he has missed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. MANY. GOD. DAMN. CHARACTERS.

   The moment Stephen stepped through the doors and found the hallway empty he made a beeline for the stairs. He practically ran up them and out the french doors to the left that opened up onto a large deck, which had its own cement staircase down on to the large green open space that wrapped around the compound. He sucked in lungsful of fresh air, eyes closed and entire body suffering from a low tremor. The Cloak was wrapped around him as though worried he was cold, but he payed it no mind.

   That hole inside him was gaping again, the edges seemed to disintegrate further as the sad, dreadful, emptiness threatened to swallow him whole. He let himself sink down to his knees, his aching fingers digging into the wet grass, trying to ground himself and think realistically.

   He knew Bruce was confused as to why he didn’t just explain who he was to Tony, but Stephen meant it when he said he didn’t want to overwhelm him just yet. The fact of the matter was Tony had forgotten years of information, not just Stephen and it would be the height of selfishness to put Stephen’s feelings, their lives, first.

   No, he had already decided it would be best to do it in order. When Pepper arrived, he would have her explain why they were no longer together and the fact that they were still best friends. Then perhaps the most important thing…Titan. It would be tricky to maneuver and difficult to believe if he didn’t remember living it, but he hoped if they gave him the details bit by bit it would be easier to process.

   Pepper would be able to explain how things looked from the ground level on the civilian side. Then Rhodey could explain Wakanda and what he knew about Thanos, starting at the beginning, followed by Bruce, Nat, then finally Steve. It was best to start with those Tony trusted most, even if was killing Stephen to admit it.

   Realistically, they shouldn’t jog his memory too much. Tony hadn’t experienced most of what they did, not until after he retrieved the gauntlet and returned people in the snap. It was when he and Peter had to explain what actually happened on Titan that they would see if anything clicked.

   Tears stung his eyes and Stephen gritted his teeth. He might be outside, but it was still no place to breakdown, he wasn’t among friends, no matter how hard Tony had tried over the years. He couldn’t let it show, just how much this hurt, because he had no doubt he’d be removed from the process of Tony’s care and that was one thing he could not abide.

   A thought slithered into his head then, the one that Tony hated with a passion because he claimed it never held anything good for Stephen, only other people. _He doesn’t remember Titan._

   Stephen’s hands came up, the palms pushing hard against his eyes as he tried to dislodge it from where it was already taking root in his mind. They didn’t know how long amnesia lasted, it was different for every patient and he was just as likely to regain everything in the next hour as he was to get nothing for the next thirty years. It was stupid to even think about it, to consider the fact that…no, he couldn’t think about that.

   “Dr. Strange?” came a familiar timid voice behind him.

   For once he was grateful for an interruption, especially from Peter, “yes?” he asked, not bothering to turn around.

   Peter came up beside him and a glance over revealed he had changed out of his suit and was now in jeans and a sweater with a thin wind breaker thrown over top. That was when Stephen realized a light drizzle had started again and the Cloak was doing what it could to keep him dry.

   Peter wasn’t looking him in the eye, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve, “everyone’s inside where FRIDAY told us to go. Dr. Banner was explaining and asked me to come get you.”

   Stephen blew out a heavy sigh. The weight of the world was not an unfamiliar burden on his shoulders but to have that same weight on his heart was absolutely crushing, and for the first time in three years he wondered if any of this had been the right decision.

    He stood slowly, twisted his fingers quickly and all his clothes went dry instantly. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to gather himself for a moment. He needed to be realistic, it was doing nobody any good to act like this was permanent, best to take things one step at a time.

   “Um, Dr. Strange?”

   He looked at Peter whose expression was twisted up with guilt and unease, Stephen felt himself soften some, “Peter, you know its not your fault, right?”

   His face scrunched up suddenly and his eyes went glassy. Without thinking Stephen reached out to grab him by the shoulders and yank him into a hard hug. Peter’s arms wrapped around him and squeezed tightly, face pressed into his shoulder while he sniffled, “If I hadn’t-”

   “Peter,” he said firmly into his ear, “if you hadn’t tried to save that girl, she would be dead, and if Tony hadn’t saved you, then you would be. I can assure you, the damage of him not stopping it would have been a thousand times worse to him then this.”

   Peter pulled back, nodding weakly. He obviously had his doubts and that couldn’t be helped, though he seemed slightly reassured all the same. He paused and Stephen knew he wanted to say something else, so he waited patiently, even as he began to feel a chill go through his aching limbs from the rain.

   “Dr. Banner and Ms. Romanov said Mr. Stark has lost some memory…does he remember me?”

   The fear in that simple question for the first time since he stepped foot on the compound, made him feel the furthest thing from alone. So, without a hint of bitterness he offered Peter a small reassuring smile, “he did lose some memory, about five to six years. But he does remember you…just younger.”

   Peter immediately grimaced even as he brightened, “you mean last thing he remembers was when I was in high school? Like when he treated me like a kid?”

   That made Stephen crack a smile, the absolute dejection almost making him laugh, “Peter, he never stopped seeing you as a kid and he never will.”

   He kicked the wet ground with his foot, “am I going to have to explain the whole university thing again?”

   Now Stephen did laugh as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and steered him toward the compound just as a helicopter went by over head, “I think he has a lot more on his mind then your decision to take a year off.”

\---

   When he stepped into the corridor leading to Tony’s room it was to find everyone gathered in silence. Their heads snapped up when he entered and for a moment Stephen was overwhelmed by the array of expectant faces.

   Bruce was by the door, still staring down at that screen displaying Tony’s vitals and brain responses. Natasha and Steve were sat in the uncomfortably plastic chairs speaking quietly amongst themselves, still in their battle gear. Pepper, for her part had only walked in three minutes prior and was standing with her arms crossed in front of Rhodey in the center of the room.

   Stephen gave a weary sigh, “I assume Bruce updated you all?”

   There were quick nods and Stephen had to admit the silence among them was kind of eerie but then what do you expect? “Alright, quick ground rules then.”

   Steve and Nat stood and they all wandered closer until they were standing in a loose circle and suddenly Stephen felt like he was debriefing them for a mission, which was oddly comforting, “we are going to go into his room one by one and explain to him some of the major events he has missed over the last five to six years.”

   There were shifting eyes then unsurprisingly, Rogers, “that’s a lot of ground to cover.”

   Stephen nodded, “I know, and we need to be careful not to overwhelm him or offer too much stimuli, so we are sticking to bare necessities. Namely, in yours and Ms. Romanov’s case, explaining Thanos and the battle of Wakanda, how you beat him, the bare basics of the new Accords and the deal that allowed you to stay. After that I’d say one or two further missions, the additions to the team, things like that.”

   He noticed the glance between Romanov and Rogers, the paleness, the uncertainty. Tony hadn’t been the only one traumatized by the Mad Titan and the last thing these two wanted to do was dredge up old memories.

   “Listen,” this time he addressed it to all of them. “I’m talking bare minimum detail. The must know basics even if that is just timelines and events.” He looked back at Romanov and Rogers, “he just needs some kind of understanding of how the hell you guys were welcomed back. Its not about Thanos as much as why you are here.”

   “We can do that,” Romanov stated decisively.

   Now Stephen turned to Rhodey and Pepper, who were looking far less sure. He offered them a reassuring smile, of everyone he was perhaps most familiar, most comfortable with them, besides Peter of course, “we’ll be having you, Pepper go in first, then you Rhodey.”

   Pepper looked exhausted and more then a little concerned and he couldn’t blame her, her mind was probably still spinning, “can you give us an idea of what he _does_ know?”

   Stephen pursed his lip, was slightly startled when he felt Peter’s hand on the back of his shoulder, a light pressure in support. Damn that kid he was going to make him cry again, “as far as he remembers you guys are still engaged.”

   The air around them stilled as Pepper’s eyes widened in shock, the same thing everyone else was expressing, save Bruce, though far more subtly. Rhodey was the next one to break in, “he doesn’t remember you at all?” he asked in disbelief.

   Stephen’s jaw clenched but he still managed, “no, he doesn’t.”

   The man shook his head, “nah, no way. That’s literally impossible he was going-”

   He cut off abruptly and Stephen felt something in him go cold again, his heart skipping a beat and making him go breathless from the pain for a moment. He was rescued by Bruce, thankfully, “I know its hard to believe or understand but the brain is extremely complicated and will often block out unpleasant memories. It is possible that the reason it went so far was because it was trying to block out Titan as well and…happy memories are almost never sparred in these cases.”

   Stephen stared at him blankly, his hypothesis was academically justified, and he had no reason to deny it except the fact that his words were giving credence to that voice from earlier and Stephen had to forcibly put himself back in the moment.

   “Listen, the fact is he’s forgotten and we’re going to give him a basic framework to work with. If we don’t, he’ll go about doing it himself and lord knows how that will go,” he took another deep breath, he was doing that a lot today. “Finally, and this is really important. When you are explaining what happened, especially with Thanos and Titan, _do not_ put memories in his head.” He looked at them sternly and was met with confused stares, except Bruce of course.

   “Tell him your side of things. You can repeat the basics of what he told you, for example: when it began you know he went with me and Peter to a world called Titan and fought Thanos. You know when the snap happened, he was essentially left alone until he managed to return to Earth. I know he has said things here and there, small tidbits of information but don’t bother, right now he is very susceptible to false memories so only say what you know for certain or nothing at all.”

   “Well, that will be for you and Peter to do right? Since you were there?” Pepper asked, looking far more settled after his explanation.

   Stephen frowned, “yes,” and kept it at that.

   “Um,” Bruce tentatively began. “Might I suggest Stephen and I sit in? Just to keep track of the information and to monitor any changes in vitals or cognitive occurrences?”

   “That sounds like a good idea,” Rogers seconded.

   Stephen nodded slowly, “Pepper? Would you be alright with that or would you rather do your session alone?”

   If Stephen was honest, he wasn’t sure if he could stand to see Tony recognize her like that while he is stuck as a stranger in the back. Pepper for her part, was staring up at him with that furrow in her brow that she got when she was trying to fix one of Tony’s mistakes.

   “Dr. Strange?” FRIDAY’S voice rang out into the hallway.

   “Yes?”

   “Boss is getting impatient and has been asking several questions regarding his past.”

   “Have you answered them?”

   “Just waiting on confirmation from you or Dr. Banner.”

   “Good. Please do not reveal or answer any questions regarding Tony’s past without directly consulting with us first.”

   “Yes, Dr. Strange.”

    He looked back at the gathering of people and waved them away, “you might as well have a seat.”

   Only Pepper and Bruce stayed, “I think I’d actually be more comfortable if you were there Stephen.”

   He looked at her sadly sincere eyes, the understanding there almost enough to make him be completely honest with her and stay out here. He didn’t, instead, he nodded slowly and forced a weak smile when she squeezed his shoulder.

   “I know this is hard, but he’ll remember everything before you know it and this will be a stupid memory,” she tried to reassure.

   “I hope so,” he murmured. “Wait here a minute.”

   He nodded at Bruce and they made their way into Tony’s room.

   What they found was the farthest thing from surprising. Tony was up and wandering about the small private room, filled to bursting with anxious energy and clearly extremely irritated as glared at the ceiling and grumbled, while one arm stayed wrapped around his bruised ribs.

   “Everything alright?” Bruce asked.

   Tony swirled to look at them, paling slightly and making both men raise an eyebrow. He steadied himself easily enough and all but snarled while pointing a finger at Stephen, “no its not. Who do you think you are warding off my access to FRIDAY?”

   Stephen simply rolled his eyes, “last I checked you had full access except for any data regarding your past including news archives and the internet.”

   “I’ve had it, who are you?”

   “We’re getting to that,” Stephen said wryly.

   “I am not going to be locked up in my own compound like-”

   Stephen’s Cloak had popped off his shoulders and flitted over to the doorway to retrieve Pepper.

   “What the actual fuck?”

   Bruce shot Stephen a hard look, “what happened to not overwhelming him?”

   Stephen shrugged, “he was being insufferable.”

   Tony shook his head, trying to clear it and Stephen’s heart throbbed with the familiarity of this moment between the three of them.

   “So what? Your ability is animating objects?”

   Stephen had to admit he was mildly impressed by that guess, but it was immediately pushed to the wayside as the door opened again and Pepper’s cautious voice filled the air, “Tony?”

   Tony’s dark eyes narrowed onto her over Stephen’s shoulder and he quickly pulled up his mask of impassiveness and ushered Bruce to the chairs by the window. His breath was squeezed from his lungs as he saw the way Tony immediately softened for her and her answering grin.

   “So, I see you’ve gotten yourself into quite the mess once again.”

   “That’s what I’m told,” he snorted.

   She shook her head and seemed to pull on the Pepper CEO persona that she kept ready at all times, Tony saw it to and hopped right back on the bed, eyes never leaving her as she came to stand at the end of it, hands on the end railing with a knuckle-white grip.

   So, it began. She explained in hesitant words and cautious looks how their relationship disintegrated into the solid friendship they now enjoyed. She didn’t even need to mention Thanos or the snap, because it truly had nothing to do with all that. At an inquiring noise from Tony she took the time to explain how they had both felt about it, how in the end they both chose to end it, together. It was intimate enough to make both Bruce and Stephen uncomfortable, a sentiment that was clearly echoed by Tony who glanced at them occasionally.

   Besides that, he was essentially silent, taking it all in. Sometimes his eyes would narrow, and Stephen knew he was actively trying to find the memories, to make connections that weren’t there. When Pepper finally trailed off Tony was nodding solemnly, eyes a little glassy.

   He took several minutes before he finally spoke, “I guess…I’m not really….I kind of saw it coming.”

   Pepper offered a light smile, “that’s what you said before.”

   Bruce tapped Stephen’s arm where it rested on the table, raising an eyebrow. He knew he was pointing out the fact that he was once more not surprised. Stephen was still skeptical, unfortunately it could be chalked up to muscle memory.

   Pepper looked over at them hesitantly again, “should I mention Thanos or…?”

   Tony seemed to sit up straight at that, his entire attention zeroed in on the three of them with that eager intent, but Stephen was already shaking his head, “let’s save that for Rhodey.”

   Tony immediately narrowed his eyes and before he could protest Stephen moved along, “actually you might want to…let him know about how Stark Industries has come along.”

   Now he was grimacing and Pepper for her part was grinning, eyes lighting up with excitement while Bruce gave a disapproving huff. Stephen smirked, unable to help himself now that they were done discussion their relationship.

   Pepper shook her head at Tony’s reaction, “I’ll spare you the details that we both know you don’t care about. But since the…um event, let’s just say you are richer then you’ve ever been, even with the expenses of this place. Oh, and you’ve invented six new tech devices for both home and industry that has taken off at an unpresented rate.”

   That got his attention as Stephen knew it would and he left Pepper to stumble through a less then scientific explanation to his inquiries, not that he blamed her. For their part he and Bruce looked down at their notes to see if either of them had spotted any unconscious memory recognition. Besides the bit at the end, there was nothing and Stephen tried to ignore the way his stomach dropped.

   “Alright,” he called. “Let’s get Rhodey in here. Just give us a couple minutes ok?”

   She nodded, shot Tony a reassuring smile and left the room. Stephen let his gaze run over Tony, but the man was staring at the door, as if willing his friend to come through.

   “How are you feeling?” Bruce tried.

   “I want to know about this Thanos.”

   Stephen frowned, “is there something familiar about it?”

   Tony shook his head, “no but I could see just from looking at her that it scared her. Whatever it is was massive and I deserve to know.” He was looking at them now, his eyes practically accusing.

   Stephen met them steadily, “you’re right. That being said, if you start to remember anything at all you need to tell us. They will not be pleasant, and it is entirely reasonable for your reaction to be volatile.”

   There was the smallest spark of defiance in the depth of his eyes for a moment, but just as quickly it fled. Tony hated vulnerability and Stephen wasn’t sure if it was his tone or something else that made him subside to his words so easily.

   Rhodey came in then and it began in earnest. For the next thirty minutes Stephen didn’t let his eyes stray from Tony’s face. He watched for every twitch, every shift in breathing as Rhodey began his careful explanation of the battle in Wakanda, what he knew about the stones, and the brief interaction with Thanos. He shifted onto the aftermath and Tony’s return from space and his eventual wielding of the gauntlet.

   He said nothing the entire time, simply listened impassively. Stephen, however, was looking for something else completely. He trusted Bruce to pay close attention to their words, to any revelations about Tony’s memory. No, he was looking for the symptoms of his trauma which he had been suffering through since the Snap.

   When Rhodey was done and got up, shooting worried glances at Bruce and Stephen, he was quick to encourage Bruce to start speaking next. Tony’s eyes fell on him while the man stuttered through everything from the ship of Asgard to the same story of Tony wielding the gauntlet. As each second past without Tony’s body showing even the slightest sign of his trauma Stephen felt himself grow increasingly hollow.

   He could see the disbelief in Tony’s eyes and was completely unsurprised when as soon as Bruce spoke the last word, he asked for Romanov to come in and continue the story. She did so with even less emotion then she usually portrayed, looking past Tony, quiet and succinct in her explanations.

   Still nothing and the only difference was Tony’s slightly more stilted questions, the tensions in his shoulders hinting at the distant memory of them being on difficult terms. But when that was over and she left quietly, Stephen was sure he spotted something like understanding in his eyes.

   Rogers was next and that was the height of awkwardness, the Captain being far to empathetic for his own good and self-conscious of Tony’s last memory of him. Tony for his part was overly polite, listening and barely interrupting, something that only made things worse for Rogers since it was exactly how he was treated immediately after the Rogues return under the new Accords.

   On the plus side, it was Rogers who seemed to finally break the haze of suspicion and disbelief, the man’s heart felt account of the aftermath of the Snap, the pain of failure still reverberating in his voice, the way he would pause to collect himself.

   Yet, leave it to Tony to focus on the one part missing from this story so far, “so, where exactly was I during the first half of this. You all keep saying I swooped in and helped saved the day, but where was I when it all went to shit in the first place?”

   Steve’s eyes landed on Stephen who had been silent throughout everyone’s account. He knew Tony had followed the gaze and could practically feel the weight of it on him as he did so. Stephen took a steadying breath, “thank you Captain Rogers, if you would please send in Peter.”

   He saw disappointment flash in the man’s eyes. None of the Avengers had ever gotten the full story of what occurred on Titan and he knew they were all dying of curiosity. Though they always respected their refusal to share, he knew there was another reason Rogers in particular wanted to know. The Soul stone, almost everyone who came back had no memory of it, the only thing they had managed to glean from it was the fact that those who were decimated, had an earie sense of comfort around Stephen. Yet, another reason he tried to keep his distance from the Avengers and the public in general, he had done everything in his power to make the people there comfortable and it had left a lasting impression. Rogers, however, wasn’t one to like unknown quantities and he didn’t blame him.

   Rogers stepped out and Stephen turned to Bruce with a raised eyebrow, he was already nodding and gathering his things.

   “Where are you going?” Tony asked.

   Bruce paused only a moment, “this part of the story belongs only to you three.”

   “Not like that was ominous,” Tony muttered as the man left.

   Stephen forced a smile, “brace yourself.”

   Tony’s head tilted curiously then the door opened halfway, and Peter called in quietly, “Dr. Strange?”

   “Come on in Peter.”

   Stephen watched Tony’s face carefully as Peter entered, saw the way his eyes widened in shock and his expression grew puzzled, while the kid himself came in looking sheepish. Stephen couldn’t help a soft little smile as he pulled to unused plastic chairs right up next to the bed, “not much of a kid, anymore right?”

   Tony turned to look at him and that right there was the first true spark of emotion he’d seen today since Pepper. He was looking at him with eyes that were growing glassy, his face crumpled in a horribly confused way that nearly broke Stephen’s heart. He was practically pleading with Stephen, for the first time, to reassure him this wasn’t real.

   Peter sat quietly and politely said nothing. Stephen understood, he really really did. The others barely showed the passing of the last five or so years, middle-aged faces tend to that, but Peter was a completely different story. He was taller, sported a light shadow from forgetting to shave, he was all still boyish charm and timid excitement, but his face was narrower, his eyes older, his posture a little lower.

   This was a boy, who was shot like a canon ball into the realities of not only adulthood but also super heroism. This boy had died in the arms of the man he considered to be a father, this boy had discovered what it was like to lose, had fought in so many battles and had even lost people he cared about over the past few years and for the first time, as Tony stared at him with something like heartbreak, Tony was realizing he missed it all. He missed this boy, who he took under his wing, becoming a man.

   “Mr. Stark?” Peter asked nervously.

   Stephen was sitting next to him, right beside Tony’s bed and didn’t miss the small flinch in his hand at the kid’s deepened voice.

   Tony cleared his throat a little, eyes locked on Peter like he was desperately trying to remember, familiarize himself with this new version of the boy in his mind, “I’m alright.”

   “Good,” Stephen said, taking hold of the situation. “Peter and I are going to tell you our story from Thanos…and a few other things.”

   Tony seemed to pale, “you were there?” he asked Peter.

   Peter looked down, that sheepish expression back, “yeah?”

   “I let you fight this Thanos?” Tony was incredulous and Stephen had to stifle a sigh, they would be here all night if it went on like this.

   “Actually, you didn’t really let me. I kind of just went after you…without express permission.”

   Tony blinked a few times then groaned, “of course you did.”

   “Alright,” Stephen tried again. “We’re getting a head of ourselves. Let us start from the beginning.”

   He slid the Eye off his neck where it had been hanging securely and he noted the way Tony’s eyes latched onto it, watched his expression carefully as he explained, “this is the Time Stone. The other’s explained what the Stones were but I was tasked with protecting this one. When Thanos sent his minions to retrieve it, you, me and Peter ended up in space.”

   He didn’t ask for him to elaborate which he was thankful for.

   So, it began. Stephen started the slow, careful process of filling in the blanks, with Peter helpfully adding in side notes, such as who the Guardians were and the fact that they were good friends now (Stephen and Tony had tried discouraging him, but it didn’t work). When he explained vaguely about how he peered into the future to find a way to win he expected the interruption:

   “Well? What exactly did you see?”

   It was the same question Tony still liked to hound him with, even as of one week ago and the only question he refused to answer, this time he only got a huff in response. Finally, when he explained the moment of Tony’s demise at the hands of Thanos and Stephen’s subsequent offer to save his life, he looked at him with such confusion, disbelief and bitterness that he almost felt transported back to that exact moment.

   Instead he fell silent and let Peter take it from there, the kid unbelievably smiling up at Stephen while he did so of how they got dusted and ended up floating in the Soul Stone. It was a good thing Peter was watching him or he might have seen the tears in Tony’s eyes. Peter was one of the only people with a nearly perfect memory of the Soul Stone, thanks to his Spidey sense and Stephen’s intervention. He had never been angry at Stephen; had said he knew he had a plan. It still broke his heart.

   They trailed off, fast-forwarding to their return, everyone’s. There wasn’t much to add there, the others covering the extensive clean up and the fact that most of the world was still healing to this day.

   They let Tony process in silence. Stephen, ignoring the advice he gave the others, had also filled in the blank of how he returned to earth, courtesy of Carol Danvers (which he didn’t bother getting into) and the basics of that time.

   After nearly five minutes of Tony sitting in silence, seemingly trying to order things in his mind and possibly trying to remember, Stephen felt Peter nudging at his side. When he glanced over at him Peter was meaningfully and not so subtly shooting looks at Tony. He stifled a sigh, well-aware that kid was dying for Stephen to tell Tony who he was.

   “Peter, would you mind waiting outside? Its late and you can stay with me tonight if you want once we leave.”

   His face dropped but he nodded slowly, standing, “yeah that would be great Dr. Strange. Mr. Stark? I hope you feel better.”

   “Thanks kid,” he murmured.

   The moment the door closed, the air grew thick with tension and unease, utterly suffocating with the chaotic noise of a man with too many memories and the numbing pressure of one with too little. He looked at Tony, who was slumped back against the pillows, seemingly giving into the reality that was his painful ribs and no doubt throbbing head. Absently, Stephen turned the dial to give him a small boost of pain meds. It would help him sleep tonight.

   Tony blew a quiet sigh and there was that look again, the one that speared Stephen right through the heart. It was so cold and calculating, exactly what he expected to see in the mind of a genius, in Tony whenever he worked on a difficult project or equation, but never directed at him.

   “So, you’re the missing puzzle piece then,” he said quietly. “The bit that doesn’t fit.”

   Stephen offered a weak smile, “I doubt that. You figured it out awhile ago I bet.”

   There was a hint of a spark in Tony’s eye and Stephen knew he got it right. Tony was way too smart to not have connected the clues. But it went out a moment later, something regretful and a little sad in its place.

   Stephen took pity on himself, “walk me through it,” he requested, a common phrase whenever the man tried to explain something about a new project. And if he was honest, he wasn’t sure he could say the words himself.

   Tony’s gaze didn’t waver, “the first clue was the fact that they called you first over Pepper.”

   Stephen tilted his head, “I _am_ a neurosurgeon and you did hit your head, in case you forgot,” only half joking.

   Tony nodded slowly, seemingly put at ease by Stephen’s carefully crafted mask of nonchalance, “true but then you had access to FRIDAY, something I’ve also only ever given Pepper. Especially, the right to lock me out of certain parts of her.”

   Stephen shrugged and Tony continued, “then there was the fact that you clearly know me really well. You knew there was no way in hell I would just sit here docilly with no information.”

   That one hurt, he wasn’t going to lie.

   “Finally, Peter.”

   At that Stephen raised an eyebrow, not spotting the connection and Tony gave a half-hearted smile, “besides the fact he was not so subtly hinting at you to say something, there was the this…connection there?” His cheeks reddened slightly, but he plowed ahead. “you two obviously know each other well but at the same time you didn’t really connect with the others. Then the three of us being in this room…it just felt right? Familiar? I don’t know.”

   “Yeah,” Stephen replied shakily. “That would do it.”

   That regretful look was back in his eyes, “how long?”

   For such a simple question it was horribly devastating words to hear. He couldn’t stop his eyes from slipping closed or the breath that rattled out of him at the whispered inquiry, “four years.”

   A pause, then:

   “I can see it you know.”

   Stephen opened his eyes to look back at him, had to physically stop a sob at the curious sincerity there, “see what?”

   “Us,” he murmured. “you’re hot-” a wet laugh bubbled out of him. “you’re smart, you clearly know how to put up with my shit, you’re sarcastic. Great qualities in a man.”

   “Good to hear it,” Stephen tried for light-hearted.

   It was dashed a moment later by Tony’s confused question, “why didn’t you tell me right away?”

   Stephen shook his head, “I needed to assess you first and batting away what was sure to be a ridiculous amount of questions wouldn’t have helped.”

   “That does sound like me.”

   “Besides,” Stephen continued. “You don’t know me, I’m a stranger to you now and you’ve never trusted or dealt with strangers well.”

   Tony was searching his face and it was incredibly difficult not to just break down right there. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut that he hadn’t touched Tony since this morning and that as of right now, he didn’t have the right to. It made his skin prickle with sudden need and his eyes burn.

   “What were we?” he asked, and Stephen saw the way his thumb was absently rubbing at his ring finger.

_What do you think about going out to dinner tonight? Somewhere nice?_

   Stephen swallowed thickly, knew his eyes had gone glassy and vehemently shoved it back. This wasn’t about him, he needed to focus, “we weren’t married or anything,” it felt like poison burning his tongue.

   Tony nodded but Stephen noticed there was something akin to doubt there.

   “You’re handling all this…really well.”

   Stephen chose to pretend there was no accusation there as he forced himself to meet his eyes head on, “we have been through an awful lot the two of us and my throwing a fit won’t really get us anywhere right now will it? Its nobody’s fault, its just the way it is. Its not about me.”

   Tony’s head tilted a little, as though he didn’t quite agree, “you know…it is a _little bit_.”

   Stephen wasn’t sure what made him say it, perhaps it was the fact that Tony had the audacity to use that phrase without knowing about the dozens of nights it was whispered to him after a nightmare, the loved filled words when Stephen had distanced himself when they first started dating. Maybe it was because Tony, _his_ Tony knew why Stephen wouldn’t let himself breakdown in this situation and he suddenly felt helplessly alone.

   “Sure, except I don’t think you really need or want to hear about how it literally feels like I’m dying inside. How it would be easier if you stuck a red-hot piece of metal into my heart then to make me endure this.”

   Silence.

   Tony was staring at him wide-eyed and startled by the sudden brutal honesty and Stephen didn’t blame him. What strenuous hold he had on his emotion was fraying rapidly and he saw no escape. Instead he stood, “I’m sorry. I should-”

   “No,” Tony cut him off. “Its fine, you shouldn’t… I mean-”

   The man was never good with emotions. _He was with you, he knew all the right things to say_. Stephen took a steadying breath and nodded, “listen you need to rest. There was minor swelling in your brain, so you’ll have to stay here for observation.”

   Tony grimaced, but seemed glad to move on to other things…still, “what about you?”

   Stephen forced a smile, “I’ll come back tomorrow morning, see where the swelling is at and if you’ve recalled anything. I assume you’ll have more questions and…I’ll do what I can to answer them.”

   Stephen tried to ignore the sickly feeling when Tony seemed relieved at his departure, “care to reinstate FRIDAY before you go?”

   Stephen shook his head, “nope, otherwise you won’t sleep at all tonight.”

   He turned on his heel. Unable to stand staring into those familiar, warm, empty, brown eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't particularly like this chapter and it was incredibly difficult to write. I'm just glad to get onto the stuff I think we are all really here for ;)


	4. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death would be easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been awhile....sorry about that.

   Once Stephen left that room, he by passed the small gathering of people and walked straight over to Bruce, who was speaking with Peter. The only thing he wanted right now was to fall asleep and hope it had been some horrible nightmare.

   Peter was the first to greet him of course, “oh! Did he remember anything? I couldn’t tell but I felt like he should have asked more questions, you know? Like maybe it’s all just right-”

   “Peter,” Stephen cut him off tiredly. “No, nothing as of right now.”

   Both and Peter and Bruce slumped at the news and Bruce ran a hand through his mess of curls, “alright, what’s our plan of action then?”

   Stephen shrugged, “honestly, sleep is the best course of action right now. He had a minor concussion so just to be on the safe side he should be woken every three or so hours. The swelling was already decreasing, according to FRIDAY, and by tomorrow it should be pretty normal.”

   Bruce nodded, “right, I’ll stay with him and I’m sure Rhodey wouldn’t mind taking a shift. What about you?”

   Stephen knew Bruce wasn’t asking him to stay, he needed to be at the Sanctum overnight. Luckily, Peter had texted Wong while he had been waiting his turn to speak and his friend was up to speed with everything. Still, Wong needed to be at Kamar-Taj in a few hours and they were stretched thin as it was. No, Bruce was trying to _check up on him_ , and it was truly hateful.

   “I’ll be in bright and early tomorrow for assessment and to start figuring out where we go from here,” he turned to Peter. “Go grab your bag, I’ll portal us over in.”

   Peter hurried off and Stephen was left alone with Bruce. For the first time, as the man slipped off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, he looked exhausted, “Stephen, I’m sorry I can’t-”

   “Stop,” he cut him off, couldn’t bare the pitying words. “It’s nobody’s fault.” The words sounded hollow, even to his own ears but thankfully the other man simply nodded.

   “If you need anything…from any of us, all you need to do is ask.”

   It was a kind sentiment, but even now Stephen couldn’t see himself doing that, no matter their good intentions. He simply nodded tiredly and in silence created a portal directly into the foyer of the Sanctum, following Peter through when he appeared a moment later.

    Stepping through felt sickening, leaving Tony in the compound felt horribly wrong, but he didn’t have a choice. Unsurprisingly, Wong stood there, impassive as ever, though by now Stephen knew how to spot the glint of concern in those dark eyes.

   “Head on up to your room Peter.”

   The kid blinked at him for a moment, seeming disappointed at the dismissal before gripping his bag and trudging up the stairs with a sigh. They said nothing until he had rounded into the hallway upstairs and Stephen found himself tensing under Wong’s scrutinizing.

   “He really doesn’t remember anything since before Titan?”

   “No,” Stephen answered stiffly.

   “Are you alright?”

   He was grateful for the lack of pity in his voice, the brusque manner that Wong handled everything, “no.”

   He nodded once, “good. Means you haven’t gotten lost in that head of yours.”

   His lips twitched into a tiny smile, “I think I’d rather that.”

   “No, you don’t,” his friend replied easily. “And I’m not in the mood to go fishing for you either. Remember our exercises, don’t let the Stone tempt you, and don’t forget what world, what reality you’re in, no matter how tempting it is to slip into another.”

   The words should be condescending, annoying after everything he dealt with these past few hours, instead Stephen felt immeasurably comforted by them. The undercurrent of confidence in Wong’s voice betraying that he knew Stephen could manage this, could handle one more travesty and in turn, Stephen started to believe it too.

   “Thank you.”

   Wong’s head bobbed once more as he slid a sling ring onto his fingers, “get some sleep. I’ll be back in the morning so you can head back to the compound and we’ll figure out the rest from there.”

   No false assurances, none of the quiet hope he’d seen with Bruce and the others that things would be alright, just simple, cold reality. Refreshing really. A portal swirled to life and without another words, Wong disappeared into Kamar-Taj, where he would do half a shift at the library then get his own sleep.

   The moment it closed behind him, Stephen was left in the suffocating silence of his Sanctuary. He knew what he _should do_ , go upstairs, crawl into bed and try to sleep, prepare himself for what was sure to be a difficult day tomorrow. Except, his bedroom was piled high with reminders that it did not belong only to him, he knew the moment he were to step inside, he’d seen Tony’s clothes thrown haphazardly around, the desk in the corner would be crowded with baubles and wires, an Iron suit would be standing sentry in the corner, pictures poorly taken by Peter scattered about in cheap frames.

   The thought of going in there…. alone, was unbearable. It suddenly seemed like this untouchable alternate reality, one he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to see again. Stephen’s jaw clenched as his eyes began to sting. He didn’t resist when his Cloak popped of his shoulders and used a corner to wrap around his wrist and guide him toward the living room.

   He sat on the couch in relief, hands moving automatically so his was in pajamas instead of his tunic and suck down easily into the cushions, stretching his body out on the thankfully comfortable couch. Levi retrieved pillows from god knows where and returned to stretch itself over him, hugging him in an embrace just tight enough to hold him together in the midst of a horrible sensation of falling apart.

\---

   Hands pushing at his shoulder insistently and an irritated huffing had yanked him from consciousness in the morning. Stephen had been sore and groggy, mind messy with confusion as Wong glared down at him with narrowed eyes.

   His first thought was he must have over exerted his magic yesterday to feel this shitty.

   The truth was brought back with a violent swing the moment he yawned, the feeling of dried tear tracks stretching the skin of his cheeks. Memories flashed through his head and for a moment he wasn’t even sure it was real, far too used to the visions and nightmares that liked to trick him into forgetting where he really was.

   “Strange, what day is it?”

   He blinked up at him, the words tumbling out automatically, “Saturday, March fifteenth..”

   Wong nodded, “what happened yesterday?”

   Stephen flinched, unable to help himself, hand coming up to touch where the Stone usually hung but had been zapped back to its usual place last night. Wong noticed and squeezed his shoulder disapprovingly, “don’t hide from it, you’re stronger then that. What happened?”

   Stephen took a shaky breath, croaked out the words, “Tony forgot me.”

   “Good,” a cup of tea was summoned and shoved in his trembling hands, the Cloak reaching out to steady it. “Peter’s already left, and I’ve got the Sanctuary covered for the next four hours at least.”

   Stephen was still trying to catch up, inexplicably emotionally exhausted already. He tried to set the tea aside, “I need to go see him-”

   Wong shook his head, “drink the damn tea and take a minute to get it together or you won’t be helping anyone. There is no rush, you would have gotten a call if he remembered or was dying.”

   Wong was right even if his instincts were telling him to just get up and leave. Chances were, what he found on the other side would be anything but pleasant anyway. So, he forced himself to stay seated and sip resolutely at his tea, eyes ahead and mind spinning.

   Finally, after twenty minutes had passed in an agonizing eternity Stephen stood and let the cup disappear back to the kitchen, Wong simply glanced up from the book in his lap to murmur, “Patience, fortitude, acceptance.”

   A familiar mantra from Kamar-Taj. Summoning his tunic and smiling a little at the comforting weight of the Levi on his shoulders, he opened a portal to right outside Tony’s hospital door. Stepping through, he was immediately felt all his ease and confidence seep away, as he listened to Tony’s familiar voice on the other side of the door.

   “I swear Rhodey if you tell me to wait one more hour-”

   “Tony for once in your life stop being a selfish dick!”

   Rhodey didn’t mean the words, and Stephen could tell from his tone that the argument going on in the room had been happening for awhile. Closing his eyes, Stephen tried to prepare himself for the inevitable blankness in his lover’s eyes, the questions, the painful throb of an empty heart.

   The Cloak squeezed his wrist and he pushed inside.

   He was met with Tony’s infamous glare being levelled on an angry Rhodey and exasperated Bruce. It was clear they had been up for a couple of hours and had likely been fending off his lover’s demands to leave the room or dozens of other demands.

   Rhodey looked over at him, expression morphing into relief, “finally Doc, don’t think we could have survived another hour.”

   Tony chose that moment to level his frustration on him, “about time. I need access to FRIDAY and that includes all my workshop records and news coverage-”

   Stephen picked up his clipboard and cut him off mid-sentence, not even looking at him, “FRIDAY, please display all diagnostics from last night.”

   “Yes, Dr. Strange. Anything else?”

   “Begin brain scan and highlight any swelling larger then two millimetres.”

   “I’m fine-” Tony tried again in irritation.

   “Be still please or you’ll be stuck here longer then you want to be.”

   Tony blinked, seemingly surprised by Stephen’s firm tone. Rhodey for his part was smirking, enjoying Tony’s inability to deal with someone other then Pepper managing his rocky attitude, luckily Stephen had years of practice.

   He walked over to Tony’s bedside, examining him. He seemed better, the dark circles having abated some which meant he had actually slept by some miracle. He was a little pale which was no doubt just his hatred for remaining stationary while his brain raged.

   A holographic image popped up in front of them of Tony’s diagnostics and Stephen felt his fingers tingle when he realized he would have to touch his lover to check the small bump on his head. It would be the first time he touched him since the incident and for some reason it made his heart race.

_Because it might be the last time you ever do._

   Stephen vehemently rejected the thought, “tilt your head forward please.”

   Tony did it automictically, clearly deciding compliance would be the fastest route to release. Stephen clung to his professionalism and tried to distract himself by speaking, “any abnormal signs or reactions last night Bruce, Rhodey?”

   His fingers slid into familiar soft curls, a little greasy from sweat and staying over night, as he parted the hair carefully.

   “Nothing for me,” Rhodey said with a shrug, coming closer to peer over Stephen’s shoulder.

   “He dreamt some but that was it,” Bruce replied.

   Stephen didn’t miss the slight tensing in Tony’s neck, he hated being talked about in the third person. The bump was fine, smaller if redder then last night and as he stepped away, he had both men come over with him to stare at the large-scale image of his brain.

   “No swelling,” Stephen murmured, feeling dread move through him.

   “Then he should remember right?” Rhodey asked, rubbing at his tired eyes.

   “The brain is more complicated then that. It often takes drastic measure to protect itself,” Bruce answered for him.

   Stephen turned back to Tony to find him glaring. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and Stephen was exhausted, “I think he’s well enough to leave.”

   Tony rolled his eyes, clearly thinking it was obvious and Stephen almost wanted to smile, almost. He was already swinging his feet over the side with a barely contained wince, no doubt a result of his ribs when Stephen reached out to place a firm hand on his shoulder to stop him.

   “But we’ll have to observe him for the day at least. Especially while he goes over everything that happened in the Snap.”

   Tony grinned, “finally taking off the child-lock on FRIDAY?”

   Stephen offered a tight smile of his own, could see Tony’s falter in the face of Stephen’s low enthusiasm.

   Bruce nodded, “I’ll hang around for a bit.”

   Rhodey shook his own, “I can do a night shift, but I’ve got meetings today and need to catch up on some sleep.”

   “I’m not some baby who needs a minder guys!”

   They ignored him, “that would be great thanks. Wong is at the Sanctuary right now so he-”

   “What’s that?”

   Stephen’s breath caught, even as the other two men stared at Tony in surprise. Tony was looking at him, head titled a little, as if trying to figure out what he could possibly be referring to. Stephen clenched his jaw, took a deep breath. He wanted to say home, wanted to remind Tony of how the man had fought him tooth and nail to move in, despite all of Stephen’s protests regarding the dangers. Tony hadn’t cared, had refused after a year to keep living in two separate homes, joking that he needed to lock Stephen in.

   But Tony didn’t remember that. The Sanctuary wasn’t his home anymore.

   He didn’t think it could hurt anymore.

   He saw Rhodey open his mouth to explain, but Stephen shook his head, well aware that the move wasn’t lost on Tony, “we’ll be at the Tower, you can join us there tonight.”

   He didn’t meet their confused gazes, instead focusing on Tony, “I’ll meet you and Bruce there. A car will be around soon.”

   He left without another word.

   The truth was, as he made a portal to the Tower, it was like having a war inside himself and he didn’t even know what side should win. He wanted to be with Tony, stay at his side, but he also knew it was uncomfortable for him. Stephen wasn’t blind and while Tony had a way of making his own space in any room, it felt brutally clear that among those people he was an outsider.

   The Tower was dark when he stepped into it. Tony usually came here about once a day to fiddle with projects in the workshop, but other then that it was more of a vacation home, as he fondly called it. Stephen realized this was one of the only times he had been in it without Tony and it felt eerily empty, abandoned.

   “FRIDAY?”

   “Yes Dr. Strange?”

   “Let’s light this place up a bit, lock down the…. experimental projects in the workshop and remove the lock on all Snap and Thanos related information.”

   “Done, anything else the boss would like?”

   Stephen smiled slightly, “oh there are probably many things he’d like but let’s keep it at that.”

   He swore he could feel her amusement in the air. Stephen felt his gaze drifting toward the bedroom and without fully realizing it he found himself in there, taking in all the small signs of his presence. It once thrilled him to see how he claimed Tony’s space, at his insistence of course, the clothing scattered about, the pictures Tony snagged from Peter and placed strategically, the bookshelf added specifically for his books, his side of the bed that was always made while Tony’s was messy.

   It didn’t feel satisfying anymore, it felt like an intrusion. With mechanical diligence, Stephen began gathering his clothing and hanging it properly in the closet, all pushed to the side and taking up as little space as possible. He gathered the handful of photos and placed them in a shoe box at the bottom of the closet. He knew it would be startling to go from having a fiancée to seeing your space taken up by a strange man and Stephen just wanted to make things easier. As hard as this was for him, he couldn’t imagine the chaos that was Tony’s mind.

   “Mr. Stark and Mr. Banner have arrived.”

   “Thank you, FRIDAY,” He murmured, trying to center himself.

   This would be the big test. Stephen had a sneaking suspicion for awhile now and he was terrified to find out if he was right. Unsurprisingly, the moment Stephen stepped into the living room it was to find Tony sat on the couch, staring intently at the large screen, already playing footage of the Snap. Bruce looked at him helplessly, but Stephen just shook his head.

   “Jesus,” Tony whispered as the person who was holding a camera in a home somewhere caught their baby disappearing in a wave of dust, letting out a horrified scream and dropping it. “You weren’t kidding.”

   Stephen wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn’t. Instead he took a seat on one of the chairs while Bruce sat on the couch near Tony, “we told you. It might look horrible but don’t forget they are all back now.”

   Tony’s warm eyes landed on him, holding his gaze with this strange mix of confusion and frustration. Stephen didn’t miss the way he was holding himself stiffly, obviously still feeling his ribs, but except for that there was no sign of the trauma those images used to bring bubbling to the surface. He couldn’t stand to look at videos like this, though that was clearly no longer the case.

   Still, Tony ran a hand over his face, before looking back at the frozen image, “I could use a drink,” he muttered.

   “ _No!”_ Bruce and Stephen spoke at the same time.

   Tony frowned, bewildered by their adamant refusal.

   Stephen was so damn tired, “you gave up alcohol, two years sober now.”

   He could see the questions in Tony’s eyes, but he didn’t ask, simply turning back to the TV and flipping through videos and new articles.

   It was…uncanny, watching back the media coverage. He could see Bruce pale on occasion, clearly feeling the bite of it even after all these years, and Stephen didn’t blame him. Stephen had never paid too much attention beyond making sure his name, the Sanctum, and Kamar-Taj were well out of the limelight, making this review seem oddly overwhelming, even though Stephen had experienced it in high-definition in his own head.

   That wasn’t what Stephen was watching for, however, no his eyes were on Tony. Specifically, darting his gaze between his arm, his face, and the steady rise and fall of his chest. Perhaps it was cruel, but he was almost yearning to see a physical reaction there, evidence of the years it took to free him of the worst of his PTSD.

   Selfish and cruel because as Stephen watched him seem unaffected by this second-hand horror, he realized that maybe…just maybe the worse thing Stephen could hope for, was for Tony to get his memory back.

   He felt is sick to his stomach, physically nauseas. Stephen knew it was too early to tell for sure, but so far there had been no signs of improved memory, no signs of his trauma, no indication whatsoever, that the worst thing in his life was till haunting him.

   The thought had been in the back of his mind since the very beginning, but to experience the evidence before him, Stephen found some small sad part of him thinking that Tony would be better off without those memories, even if it meant losing him.

   “Why aren’t you in any of this coverage?”

   He was drawn from the little hell catching fire inside his head by Tony’s voice. Stephen found himself staring at him blankly, this man who was both familiar and stranger, who he had once given his life for and the promise of a better world. Did he not owe it to him, to offer one more sacrifice so he could have a better life, after all he gave?

   “Stephen?” Bruce this time, expression hatefully earnest and concerned.

   He swallowed thickly, saw the discomfort in Tony’s eyes. He needed to get his shit together, “I’m…a correspondent for an organization that can not be known by the general public. Shield was accommodating and kept me and mine out of the press.”

   Tony nodded silently, eyes back on the screen before standing quite abruptly, “I’m going to the lab.”

   That was typical. Whenever Tony was feeling overwhelmed or needed to work through a problem, in this case his lapse in memory and the universe wide destruction, he would fiddle and distract himself.

   Stephen couldn’t stand to go down there right now, mind still reeling with the revelation that Tony, for the fist time in years was really, and truly, and properly, _ok_. He inclined his head toward Bruce who got the message and trailed after Tony’s retreating form.

   The moment the pair disappeared down the stairs, Stephen didn’t try to contain the burning in his eyes, or the gasps for breath squeezing painfully at his lungs. This was a lot, all of it was too god damn much and he was so _tired_. He gave himself five minutes, five long minutes to just breakdown, crying as hard and loud as he wanted, confident in the sound proof walls of the workshop. It wasn’t fair, none of this, finally achieving something real and happy only for it to be torn away in one foul swoop. It was entirely possible Tony could remember, the mind worked in mysterious ways and amnesia was only one of millions of things they didn’t fully understand, but how could he want that for Tony? If he really loved him how could he want to see him being flung back into the nightmares and the struggle?

\---

   Thirty minutes later and Stephen was in his study.

   It was a small room that Tony specifically set aside for him in an attempt to make him stop disappearing at inopportune times for his work. Two walls were lined with bookshelves, holding a variety of ancient texts, constantly stressing Wong out. A desk sat several feet in front of a window, a comfortable black office chair pulled up behind it. There was a couch as well and more importantly, one corner had been turned into a serene little alcove for meditation.

   This was by far Stephen’s favourite room. He retreated to it often and Tony always seemed so damn proud of himself as if he built it himself without the help of Stephen’s magic. He settled into the chair, a large volume in his hands written in Sanskrit, which was quickly becoming Stephen’s favourite language. He needed a distraction, just for a little while. Needed to forget about right and wrong, responsibility and sacrifice, needed to just exist in a place that felt right.

   It lasted longer then he expected.

   “Dr. Strange? Col. Rhodes would like to inform you he has arrived.”

   Stephen looked up from the book, startled by her words. He swivelled in the chair to look out the window and stared in shock at the setting sun, time having run away from him incredibly quickly, “Where is Tony?”

   “The boss came up to eat and drink something at Dr. Banner’s insistence twenty minutes ago. He has inquired as to your whereabouts on two occasions.”

   Stephen closed his book and was just about to stand and go find the men when there was a tentative knock. Looking up he found Tony leaning against the frame, eyes darting around the small room with curiosity. He felt inexplicably cornered.

   Those painfully familiar eyes landed on him and it was clear he was nervous about something, even as though he also appeared calmer as though finally getting to have free reign over all he had missed was a cure in of itself.

   “I guess this room is yours?”

   Stephen shrugged, “just a place for me to do my work.”

   Tony stepped inside, still taking it in, as though trying to place exactly when the makeover happened, “Bruce mentioned you’re a wizard.”

   Stephen’s jaw clenched, of course he should have known Tony would extend his investigation to include his past and present. It was hardly surprising, yet for some strange reason it made his stomach twist sickly and left the bitter taste of betrayal in his mouth.

   Tony came to sit in the chair across from him, and now much closer, Stephen could seek the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness in his complexion, the frustration in his eyes, “I take it happened after your crash and the disappearance?”

   Stephen’s eyes fell closed for a moment, “you could have just asked me.”

   Tony nodded, slumping in the chair, “I could have, I should have. I didn’t,” that attitude was just so him that it actually doused some of the flames in his head for a moment. “It’s been my experience that facts outweigh words every time.”

   Stephen couldn’t help the twitch in his lips. Tony had an insatiable curiosity and there was no reason to be an idiot about it. He leaned back in his own chair, eyes on Tony and deciding this would have to be done sooner or later, “fine. Anything else you want to know that you couldn’t dig up online?”

   Tony gave his own weak smile, “well I’d like to know exactly how you became a wizard and learned to save the world. But I’ll settle for hearing what this Sanctuary is?”

   Stephen frowned, of course Tony would fixate on that moment, “its where I live and is one of many stretched across this planet and manned by sorcerers, tasked with protecting reality.”

   Tony blinked a couple times, taking it stride, “where _you_ live?” he asked instead.

   Stephen’s aching fingers tugged on his robes, needing an outlet for pent up energy, “where we lived.”

   Tony was unsurprised, obviously having deduced that, “why did you take me here then?”

   “Don’t be stupid. You don’t even remember that place and I figured you’d want the workshop to distract you. Not to mention the visitors we get there are…problematic at the best of times let alone now.”

   Tony’s brow furrowed, “fuck, you know me really well.”

   Stephen couldn’t hold his gaze and dropped them to his lap.

   “It’s like everything I’ve been able to piece together, either with media coverage like Cap and the Snap or just with the way we all interact but _you_ …” Tony took a shaky breath and Stephen’s eyes darted back to him. His expression was stormy, frustrated and just a little helpless, Stephen’s heart _cracked_. “You’re like this big hole and I don’t have any of the shapes to fill it.”

   “I know,” Stephen murmured. It wasn’t fair, their lives never were and the only thing worse then being forgotten, was watching Tony agonize over something he can’t help.

   Tony ran a hand through his disheveled hair again, “listen this isn’t fair to you,” that anxiety was clear day now, an almost imperceptible shaking in his head. Dread slithered up Stephen’s spine, knowing instinctively what was about to happen. “I need some space, to figure everything out.”

   Stephen’s vision tunnelled, the words echoing painfully in his head, a fiery feeling moving through him, almost enough to make him gasp in pain, he closed his eyes, forced himself not to cry, not now, it wouldn’t help anyone, “I understand,” he managed just above a whisper.

   “I’m sorry,” Tony sounded sincere, like saying the words was almost as miserable for him as for Stephen. “I appreciate everything you’ve been doing and I’m not saying I don’t want you around, to figure this out but it’s a lot. I just….I need to work through this on my own for a bit.”

   Stephen opened his eyes, saw the distress in his eyes, and damn of Stephen didn’t know how to be there for Tony. He would do what was best for him, no matter how much it hurt. He let his gaze fall to Tony’s hand, still even as he re-watched the horror that was Titan and found himself murmuring, “its for the best.”

\---

   Wong found him in a rarely used bedroom, sitting in an old creaky chair in front of a roaring fireplace, four hours later. His cheeks were stained with tear-streaks, but his eyes were dry, long having cried to his limit. Levi wrapped around him tightly, a trembling hand gripping a long-gone cold mug of tea in his hands, ignoring the spasms in his achy fingers.

   “Strange.”

   He didn’t acknowledge him, even when he kneeled in front, a hand coming up to grip almost painfully at his knee, “Strange, you know where you are right?”

   Always checking, always making sure Stephen had slipped into those millions of futures, better futures. He knew, because this had to be one of the worst ones out there.

   “Yes,” he said simply, voice thick and broken.

   “What happened?”

   “Nothing,” Stephen stared hard into the fire. Tried to remind himself that really this was better for Tony. “Absolutely nothing.”

   Wong sighed quietly, “You’re finally feeling it Strange. It hurts, it sucks so let it out then we get back to it,” when Stephen didn’t respond, Wong’s stood and shifted his grip, unyielding, to his shoulder. “I mean it. Say it and let it go. It doesn’t make you a bad person. Only human.”

   Stephen hated the words that slipped out at the command, breath catching, “it would have been easier if he was dead.”

   All the tears he thought he had cried and still more flowed as he said those words, those words that left him numb and dead inside. Wong, for the first time since he met him, hugged him.

   “I know. Death has never been the worst the world can throw at us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never had a chapter that felt like it was physically pushing against me as much as this one. So, sorry if it's a bit off.
> 
> And honestly the world needs more Wong, he ain't here for that self-pity crap.


	5. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wants to remember, Stephen knows what it might cost him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shot for the stars and landed squarely in a black hole. Sorry doesn't seem like enough.

   The following day was brutal, on par with the week following his surgery and the destruction of his hands. He woke disoriented and aching, the urge to curl up in the covers only superseded by his sense of duty and the knowledge that sooner or later Wong would come to drag him away.

   He dressed in a haze, the Cloak hovering around him anxiously, mind far away, at the Tower with Tony. It hurt, not knowing, not being allowed to know if he was alright, if he remembered anything. He took a shuddering breath, willing himself to stop, to control himself.

   When he stepped into the kitchen, he was only minimally surprised to find Wong sitting there, sipping tea and reading from a book. In his fragile state, his emotional turmoil, it was enough to make his eyes sting. He knew Wong had responsibilities in Kamar-Taj, wasn’t due to visit the Sanctuary until that evening, yet he here he was.

   Wong didn’t say anything, didn’t even look up so Stephen did either, silently preparing tea and trying to busy himself. It felt empty, doing this without the expectation of Tony coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around him, or coming downstairs already talking a mile a minute, or the childlike yawn and refusal to speak until his second cup of coffee. That was all gone now, it was a reminder of the days before, when it was just him in the Sanctuary and the wave of loneliness nearly knocked him off his feet.

   “Your phone has been going off since last night.”

   Stephen turned, finding his cellphone at Wong’s elbow, the man no doubt reading the messages, screening them. He didn’t need to see it to know it would be Bruce, Rhodey, Pepper and god knows who else, expressing frustration and sympathy, both equally hateful.

   When he left the night before and he told Bruce quietly about what Tony had said and although the man clearly wasn’t happy, he understood, just as Stephen had. It didn’t make it any easier and neither had Bruce’s pained, pity filled expression.

   Stephen frowned down at the phone, swallowed thickly, “just let me know if anything happens with Tony alright?”

   Wong nodded once, sliding the phone into his pocket, and for the first time Stephen felt relief flow through him. He sat across from Wong, sipping at his tea and the man tugged a loose piece of paper out of one of the short stacks of books and shoved it toward him.

   Frowning, Stephen scanned the scribbled words, laid out like a parody of an old high school schedule. He glanced a Wong, arching an eyebrow, “what’s this for?”

   Wong stood, “routine. I know you well enough to know you’ll happily lock yourself away in the library all day. Fortunately, there is work to be done and there is no better distraction.”

   Stephen blinked, looked back down at the paper, recognizing the spells that needed to be practiced, the translations that needed to be done, a few dimensions from which Kamar-Taj needed information, a long list of cross-referencing to be done. Some of these duties were recognizably that of the librarian and staff and while he would much rather wallow, he was grateful for Wong’s determination. So, in silence, Stephen stood and made his way to the study where there was already a stack of parchment, books, and charts waiting.

\---

   Eight days passed.

   Eight days of Wong’s carefully crafted routines.

   Seven nights of sleeping in a room that was not his own.

   Eight days of thinking endlessly and painfully about Tony.

   Eight days of radio silence except for the occasional talk with Rhodey or Bruce, who insisted Tony was _fine_.

   Eight days of somehow, someway, _existing_ without Tony.

   Stephen is pretty sure; the worst part of the entire week was the realization that he could. That despite how much it hurt, and how he kept expecting to see him only for his heart to break with the memory of where he was, waking up alone, he was getting through it. That simple act, felt like a betrayal. Because he didn’t want to keep moving forward with the rest of world, because he had just had his entire life yanked out from under him, because every night he had to cry himself to sleep in an empty bed, all the while still moving forward; without Tony.

   Which was why, when Rogers called him, looking for a consult on something they had found, he didn’t hesitate when agreeing to meet with him at the compound. It wasn’t even the yearning to see Tony that made him do it, because there was no reason for the man to be there, but the urge to just be somewhere that his presence wouldn’t feel like a ghost.

   He ignored the unimpressed expression on Wong’s face as he made a portal, taking a deep breath and squeezing the edge of the Cloak for comfort as he stepped through. He blinked in the sudden brightness that always filled every corner of the compound, only to freeze a moment later at the sight which greeted him.

   Tony and a very tired looking Bruce were standing at a table pouring over stacks of papers eagerly. Stephen’s breath caught at what he saw, Tony looked…good, really good. He hated the bitterness that welled up inside him, because there was this small smile on his face, eyes bright with interest at whatever they were looking at and worst of all, as Tony glanced up there was no recognition.

   The smile did fade though, like a punch to the gut.

   “Stephen,” Bruce, on the other hand seemed downright ecstatic. “You’re here! I’ve been calling you and-”

   “Where is Rogers?” Stephen interrupted, forcing his gaze away from Tony. Mission first, the rest after, one thing at a time.

   “Why are you looking for Rogers?” Tony asked, eyes narrowed.

   Stephen blinked, watched Bruce shake his head quickly, _ah._ Tony was still off mission, which made sense considering his misplaced dynamics with the team and also his tone. Stephen had no doubt Tony had been fighting that decision from the start.

   “Consultation, Rogers occasionally requests information regarding certain…unexpected discoveries,” incredibly vague and not quite a lie ignoring the fact that Tony usually headed any interaction between Stephen and the Avengers.

   That of course didn’t seem to placate Tony any, but he was kept from any interrogation by Rogers’ voice echoing out through the room, brisk and did he dare say worried? “Strange! Been a change of plans. We’re going now, meet us in the main foyer and I’ll fill you in.”

   The man, suited and armed was already walking away by the time Stephen turned to face him. He didn’t take it personally; Rogers knew Stephen’s limitations when it came to involving himself and clearly whatever had happened was serious.

   “Consultation huh?”

   Stephen glanced back at Tony; whose eyebrow was raised. He shrugged, could already see the dread on Bruce’s face in anticipation of the man’s rant, “and the occasional emergency.”

   There was a pause and Stephen had to remind himself not to expect Tony’s kisses goodbye or the quick joke about waiting on him when Tony’s expression turned troubled for a moment, brows pulling close, “um, be careful.”

   He immediately turned his attentions back to the papers, Bruce looking at Stephen with inquisitive eyes, but he simply shook his head. Those were words rarely spoken by Tony to anyone, but they were also generic and likely only said because he knew Stephen probably expected something.

   He held them close to his heart all the same, pretending the concern was for more then an acquaintance.

\---

   Stephen was not careful.

   Well, to be fair he was careful in so far as he didn’t do anything stupid. It was more like unprepared, exhausted from little sleep, and incredibly unused to working with the Avengers without Tony running interference. It was a magical relic gone wild, it was under control, and he managed to save various Avenger lives who were idiotic enough to try and engage with the magic being spewed everywhere.

   Their ignorance was exhausting. Their pity filled eyes as they trudged through one of his portals, dirty and beaten, was a thousand times worse.

   Most didn’t say a word, though they all knew of course. Rogers touched his shoulder briefly in a display of support before heading towards the infirmary with the others and it made Stephen’s stomach twist. Of course, in the end, he was caught by surprise by Black Widow of all people as he prepared to leave for the Sanctuary, eager to avoid a debrief and heart aching at the prospect of running into Tony again.

   “Strange.”

   She was standing there in the middle of the small hallway leading to the med bay, arms crossed and expression as piercing as always, “Ms. Romanov.”

   Her eyes ran over him and Stephen wasn’t sure if he could handle this on top of everything else, but then her gaze settled on his side, that his trembling hand was clutching, “come on, you’re hurt and I want to talk to you.”

   She spun on her heel and walked into one of the dozens of doors lining the hallway. He was tempted to just leave, hated how much time he had already spent in this place, yet for some reason his legs moved of their own accord and he found himself glaring at his Cloak knowingly.

   The moment he stepped through the doors, she glanced up from the thread she was snipping with a simple command, “strip.”

   Stephen made his way to the hospital bed, carefully undoing the top folds of his robe as he did so. If he was honest, he’d always liked Natasha, her no nonsense manner, her brusque professionalism a refreshing change from the Avengers usual attitudes. Of course, he knew it was an act, had seen in intimate detail just how much humanity lived inside her, the way her heart ached for the lives around her, the family she never had. Another secret the Time Stone entrusted to him.

   His Cloak was hovering nearby as he sat on the bed, robes pooled around his waist, revealing the large cut bleeding sluggishly from his shoulder and a solid five inches inward. She didn’t bat an eyelash at it and Stephen almost smiled at the Cloaks obvious enthusiasm for her character.

   She pinched the wound together with a focus he could appreciate, still unused to hands other then Tony’s, Wong’s or his own stitching him up. But he knew the game she was playing, keeping him immobile under her care until she could say her piece.

   “Tony’s been asking about you,” she murmured, eyes on her task.

   Stephen’s stomach dropped, eyes falling closed as he said tightly, “I’m not surprised. Strange man claiming to be his boyfriend, little weird. Has he thrown a fit yet?”

   Now her eyes did flicker up, ghost of a smile on her lips, “Bruce has taken the brunt of it. I don’t really blame him though, its definitely odd that we can barely tell him anything about you even though you’ve been together for years.”

   Stephen didn’t miss the thinly veiled accusation there and chose to move past it, “I’m willing to tell him anything he wants to know. All he has to do is ask.”

   “How is he supposed to do that when you aren’t around?”

   Stephen tensed, willed himself not snap. His emotions were frayed as it was and there was no reason to be having this conversation with her, yet he couldn’t seem to stop talking, “I’m reachable. He asked me to leave, asked me to give him space.”

   “And you just did it?” he swore the needle jabbed through harder that time. “Let him cut you out as simple as that?” there was no heat to her tone, but the undercurrent was there.

   His hand came up to grip her wrist, making her pull back a bit so his trembling wouldn’t ruin the stitch, “don’t play word games with me. Say what you want to say.”

   She met his gaze with her vibrant green ones, betraying a protective, concern glint that was downright startling, “how is he going to feel when he remembers and finds out how easily you let him go?” Stephen stared at her blankly, and she continued with a sincerity that was so close to the woman he saw in the Time Stone that he lost himself for a moment. “I don’t know why you never let us get to know you. We wanted to, make you part of the team, part of this mission. I know Tony wanted you to. I can only assume you had important reasons. But the one thing we knew for sure, the one thing there was no doubt about when it came to you was that you loved Tony and you were _good_ for him. I’m starting to doubt that now.”

   It would be the easiest thing in the world to get angry, to remind her that this was not her relationship and not her place to question. Instead, he felt relief flow through him, the knowledge that Tony always had someone looking out for him, even if it couldn’t be Stephen anymore.

   He took a deep breath, finding it easier then ever to accept the reality he’d been facing these past days, “I do love him, more then I could ever express. Which is exactly why I haven’t fought his decision to get space,” she frowned but he didn’t let her break in. “You are very perceptive Ms. Romanov. Tell me, what have you noticed these past few days? Or when you explained what happened with the Snap and Thanos?”

   He watched the furrow of her brow, the downturn of her lips as though insulted he spotted something she hadn’t. Stephen said nothing, giving her time to figure it out until finally, a few moments later her eyes settled on him incredulously, “he didn’t react, not a single one of his usual PTSD symptoms.”

   Stephen nodded, swallowing thickly, “and he still hasn’t. He’s been sleeping better then he has in ages according to Rhodey, his arm twitch hasn’t happened once. He been _ok_.” _Without me_ went unsaid, a painful reality.

   Natasha frowned, clearly realizing the conflict he was facing, not by choice, “you don’t know if it will last,” she settled on finally.

   “What kind of man, what kind of partner would I be if I was the reason it didn’t though? If I help him remember and bring back all that pain just because I don’t know how to live without him?”

   Natasha’s eyes softened at the admission and Stephen found himself not regretting it in the slightest, a weight off his chest with each spoken word. She looked back at her task, the wound barely bleeding now as she murmured, “isn’t that his choice though?”

   Stephen forced a smile around the tugging on his skin, “when has he ever been known to do what’s good for him?”

   “When he chose you.”

   He blinked down at her, but she didn’t look up, simply pulled the thread taunt and snipped it, turning away to grab an alcohol swab, when the door of the room suddenly opened, and Tony came through.

   His eyes landed on him and Stephen felt vulnerable sitting there half naked and scars on display under the harsh lighting. Sensing his unease, the Cloak reacted by spreading itself like a makeshift curtain between them. He looked up at Natasha as she dutifully began disinfecting the wound while absently calling out to Tony, “just wait a minute, we’re almost done here.”

   Stephen narrowed his eyes as realization dawned on him. The conversation was genuine but had the duel effect of keeping him there until Tony arrived, as though he wouldn’t come running the moment, he heard Tony wanted to speak with him.

   “He at least deserves to have his questions answered,” was all she said as he turned to leave.

   Stephen had just begun pulling his robes back on when Tony came around and he couldn’t help but flinch, “couldn’t you wait there a minute?”

   Tony shook his head, expression annoyed, “didn’t I tell you to be careful?” he asked, motioning at the cut Stephen had just covered up.

   He shrugged, “careful has never been my strong suit.”

   Stephen didn’t look up from where he was tucking the last bit of his robe away, back to being fully covered, as he waited for Tony to say his piece, unsure what he wanted to hear vs what he expected.

   “Stephen, I’m sorry.”

   That was definitely not it. He looked up to find Tony with his arms crossed, eyes on him with a familiar gleam of curiosity and a hint of discomfort. Stephen knew he had to tread carefully here, hated that he no longer just knew what as happening in Tony’s head, couldn’t tell from just one look.

   “It’s alright. You needed space after a major trauma, nothing to be sorry for.”

   Tony grimaced when he said trauma, but seemed to take the rest in stride, moving closer until the Cloak shifted to move next to Stephen, a tad defensive. It made Tony pause, and Stephen could tell there was something he wanted to say and chose to wait patiently.

   “I…I’m trying-” Tony blew a frustrated sigh, clearly out of his depth and it made Stephen ache to know he couldn’t be there for him these past few days. “I feel like I’m almost all caught up. I’ve been up most nights figuring it out, talking to everyone and for some reason you are _still_ the missing piece. Why?”

   Tony had always been direct, but it was still unsettling to have him barge in here with barely a hello and begin asking him questions he didn’t know the answer to like he was just some…agent or colleague. Stephen was tired and he was starting to wonder if maybe Wong hadn’t been right with his carefully constructed schedules and distractions.

   “I don’t know. We were always…private,” he decided on lamely.

   Those dark eyes just looked at him, narrowed and assessing. Stephen didn’t know what to say, so he found himself examining Tony again, the lack of twitch in his hand, the steadiness of that gaze, the nearly well-rested face, it almost made the pain beating through him like a drum worth it.

   “Come have lunch with me.”

   The words were spoken hastily, and Stephen was taken by surprise as he stared at the man who was fidgeting absently with his hands. He thinks about his responsibilities at the Sanctum, about how much he misses Tony and the words slide out easily, “ok.”

\---

   They ended up in the Tower, surrounded by fast food bags and cheap Chinese food and its painfully familiar but all he does is quietly pick at his food, while across the countertop Tony stared down at his own.

   The silence is awkward. Stephen hates it.

   Thankfully it doesn’t last. Tony looked up at him, finger tapping absently at the countertop before finally blowing a sigh, “I guess I should ask you if there is anything off limits, that I shouldn’t bring up?”

   Stephen sent him a knowing look, “how many people have you offended already?”

   He scowled, “not as many as I could have, Rhodey and Pete have taken care of that mostly.”

   Stephen hesitated a moment, thinking. There was almost nothing he hid from Tony, but as he watched the man’s gaze stray toward where he used a fork instead of chopsticks to speak his food, he realized what he couldn’t bare to explain further, “my hands. Don’t ask about them and everything else is fine.”

   Tony pursed his lips for a moment before giving a brusque nod, “alright why aren’t you part of the Avengers?”

   Stephen almost groaned, “because I am not in a position to work for Shield.”

   Tony’s eyes narrowed, “how powerful do you think you are?”

   He couldn’t help but smirk a bit, “more than Thor, less than Carol.”

   “Where is the Time Stone?”

   Stephen tensed lightly, “safe.”

   “How long have we lived together?”

   “A couple years.”

   Stephen found himself pleasantly surprised by Tony’s rapid-fire strategy. He didn’t have to think, just answer and it helped him control the emotions rolling within, pretend this wasn’t more than it was.

   “What made me stop drinking?”

   “Your therapist.”

   Tony shot him a disbelieving look and Stephen winced, “and that you passed out drunk after a mission forgetting about our…our anniversary.”

   His expression tightened a little, but he plowed ahead, “how did we get together?”

   Stephen almost smiled, “we were good friends for awhile after the Snap and you got impatient with just flirting and demanded the chance to take me to dinner and convince me that we were in fact compatible.”

   Tony raised an eyebrow, “and how’d I do?”

   Stephen knew his cheeks reddened a bit, “we drank too much and ended up sleeping together.”

   Tony smiled a little until gaze dropped to Stephen’s hand, expression turning contemplative and Stephen could feel his heartbeat pick up in response, “did we ever talk about marriage?”

_“What do you think about going out to dinner tonight? Somewhere nice?”_

   Stephen swallowed thickly, “vaguely.”

   A frown glanced across his lips making Stephen’s stomach twist again, only for him to suddenly change tracks, “ok, so in your professional opinion why haven’t I gotten my memory back yet?”

   Stephen blinked, noting the seriousness in his expression and he had a sneaking suspicious, “is that what you and Bruce were looking at this morning?”

   Tony nodded, “yes, trying to figure out my options. I’m hitting a dead end though, its all this time and trigger bullshit.”

   Stephen looked down at his food, choosing his words carefully, “the mind is a complicated thing and I’m not well-versed in the aftercare of cranial surgeries or damage, I spend more time on the specifics of anatomy, but it does take time and it does come about through triggers usually.”

   Tony shook his head, fingers back to tapping, “no, I’m sure there is something I can do-”

   He went on, talking about the research he’d done and the most recent articles on trauma induced amnesia and Stephen found himself staring, mind waring with his heart and the realization that Tony was apparently desperate to remember.

   Stephen didn’t know how to explain to him that what he would be going back to wasn’t all good, that he’d never seen him better mentally, than he was right now. He thought about his conversation with Natasha and found the words falling from his lips automatically, “your best bet is getting into a routine-”

   “My old routine,” Tony interrupted confidently. “Until I can figure something else out, I should expose my self to the things I’ve forgotten. Which I’ve done extensively for a week and nothing has happened.”

   “You’ve never been good at patient,” Stephen commented.

   He grinned, “that’s right. But I realized my usual routine involves you.”

   At Stephen’s silence, Tony seemed to sober, eyes looking almost apologetic, “listen, I know this can’t be any easier for you and probably the last thing you wanted to hear when I said I wanted to talk was essentially me needing to use you-”

   “Really? Who wouldn’t want to hear that?” Stephen said grimly.

   “But,” Tony continued. “Its so I can get my memory back, so I can remember you and Peter and this Thanos and Snap. Sooner I can remember-”

   “Sooner you can remember, then what?” Stephen asked, genuinely curious.

   Tony’s expression was startling sincere, “than I can stop feeling like a stranger in my own life.”

\---

   It was selfishness that made Stephen agree.

   He felt horribly confident that after the interactions he had with Tony so far, explaining the Snap and watching over him, further interaction wouldn’t jog his memory. Though he did know that the brain was extremely unpredictable, he found himself weak at the prospect of simply seeing Tony every day, remembered or not.

   Tony was still weary of him, however, and so it was decided that he’d meet him for an hour each day. An allotted time frame that could never be enough but was also too painful some days. It was excruciating each time Tony would ask a question, as simple as if he was allergic to anything, his drink of choice, to be reminded that he was stranger to him now.

   Wong disapproved entirely. He wasn’t surprised.

   Tony and Bruce were still researching, and Stephen found himself having to be passive in the midst of their efforts, knowing his opinion on the matter wouldn’t be welcome. He really should have known better.

   On the third day, when Stephen had been watching them from his place on the couch, a book in his lap, Tony looked up in a bout of frustration.

   “Why aren’t you helping?” he snapped.

   Bruce grimaced and Stephen had the distinct impression that this was spoken of behind his back, “excuse me?”

   Tony motioned at the papers and books scattered on the table, “you’re the neuroscientist here, you’re supposed to be my partner apparently, yet you seem to care the least out of all of them.”

   “Tony,” Bruce’s voice was hard, but Stephen held up a hand to stop him.

   “I’m sorry. I know what you are trying to do but I don’t think it can be done. Time, as much as you hate it, is the only answer to this problem.”

   Tony’s jaw worked harshly until he spun on his heel and left the room. He hated being told he couldn’t do something.

   He found himself left with Bruce, who was rubbing at his eyes tiredly, “you don’t want him to remember do you?”

   Stephen blinked at him, debated lying, wished none of this was happening and could hide away in his Sanctuary, “I want him to remember me, Peter, but not Titan or the Snap,” he gave a rueful smile. “Unfortunately, it’s a two for one deal.”

   “Do you really think forgetting his trauma outweighs the good you have brought to his life?”

   It was too perceptive and too close to what Natasha had said, “I don’t know. But I do know the brain should be left to heal naturally either way.”

   Bruce shook his head, “the least you could do is tell him the full picture you know. Its his choice, give him the information and let him decide.”

   Stephen looked down at his hands, “I already know what he’ll choose.”

   “Me too.”

\---

   The next day Stephen found himself standing across from Tony in the lab, while the man continued to scroll through a mass of images provided by FRIDAY. He’d been acknowledged with nothing but a nod, and Stephen felt distinctly like an intruder to this space.

   “I care.”

   Tony looked up, brows furrowed, “what?”

   “I care,” Stephen repeated. “I know how fragile the mind is and there is nothing you can do that might not make the damage worse.”

   Tony set his tablet down, “isn’t that my decision to make?”

   Stephen took a steadying breath, “I’ve also kept something from you, about what’s been forgotten.” Tony perked up, eyes on Stephen with that insatiable curiosity at the prospect of gaining more information about his past. “You were traumatized. You’ve seen the other Avengers and you were one of the worst. From what we’ve observed, you haven’t displayed a single one of your usual symptoms beyond what you had before.”

   Tony blinked as though he didn’t quite believe it. Stephen watched the man, partly fearful and partly desperate to make him understand that he cared so damn much that he couldn’t bare to be the reason it came back.

   Suddenly Tony was looking up at him with glassy eyes filled to bursting with confusion, “how?” he murmured. “What did I do make you love me so much? Why are you so willing to let me go?”

   Stephen’s trembling fingers dug into the cool metal of the table, the sting helping to clear his mind. There was accusation there and a kind of insecurity that he had worked so hard to dispel over the years and fucking hell, Stephen wondered what he did to deserve this.

   The worst part was that he couldn’t explain this to Tony, not without hours of explanations and questioning that would ultimately get them nowhere. Trying to help the man understand the power of the Time Stone, how it made him fall in love in the space of a single heart beat would not go over well…not anymore.

   “Because if our positions were reversed, you would do the same. Because if I have the chance to make you hurt less than I’m going to take it.”

   Tony didn’t bring up his research again, instead he asked FRIDAY to show him what he meant by the trauma. Stephen stood behind him, trying not to cry as FRIDAY showed image after image of Tony’s panic attacks, his long past alcohol abuse, the time he scream at Peter for caring about him so much, when, the last time before he finally decided to get sober he shoved Stephen away from him when he was trying to help.

   She showed the small things too, she showed the ticks that revealed growing anxiety, the nightmares he woke screaming from, the times he called Peter in the middle of the night because he needed to hear his voice and know he was alive, the times he and Steve spent nights beating the shit out of each other to avoid the dark memories waiting.

They were a couple years old except for the nightmares and calling Peter. He occasionally fought with Steve but nowhere near as often, he didn’t drink alcohol anymore. All the same, by the time the last audio filtered out of Stephen holding him still so he wouldn’t hurt himself during a nightmare, Tony’s shoulders were shaking.

   Without thinking Stephen pulled him into a hug, ignoring the pang in his heart, the sweetness of feeling his warmth again.

\---

   Stephen didn’t see him researching again, Bruce didn’t mention it, and he expected his visits to stop.

   They didn’t.

   He found himself, exhausted as ever and feeling like his world was spinning out of control, answering each of Tony’s daily summons with a hollow kind of resignation, because he _missed_ him, so god damn much, even as each day brought them further from what they were.

   Two days after showing Tony that footage, they were sitting on the couch, Tony still looking for answers about the most mundane of things when his head tilted, and this look entered his eyes that set Stephen on edge.

   “I get it,” he said.

   “Get what?”

   “I asked the others about you and they kept saying how good we were together, that you made me happy.”

   Dread slid up Stephen’s spine because he knew the look there, the longing, and he found himself standing abruptly, “that’s what they believed,” he said. “I’m sorry I have to go.”

   He didn’t wait to see Tony’s reaction, simply stepped through his portal and could hardly wait for it to close behind him for his breath to come in harsh pants and for him to stumble to his knees against the counter in the Sanctuary, the Cloak fluttering uselessly around him.

   It felt like his lungs were being squeezed by an iron fist, his world tunneling, and tears of desperation stinging his eyes as a panic attack over took him, overwhelming and just too much, it was all too much.

   Wong’s voice coaxed him out of it, steady and patient, calming and grounding.

   He looked up at the man’s expression and felt his heart stutter to a stop at the concern there, “Strange,” he said. “What are you _doing_?”

   It had nothing to do with him sitting on the cold tile floor, nothing to do with his panic attack and everything to do with Tony.

   The truth was he didn’t know, because he could see Tony falling in love with the _idea_ of him, with the dream picture painted by the other Avengers of a loving relationship and he suddenly felt sick with the realization.

   His skin was clammy with sweat, limbs weak and trembling still, he just wanted a shower, to know why he couldn’t just do it? Why couldn’t he just walk away and leave Tony to this new life? It should be the easiest thing in the world.

   He never fucking learned.

   It wasn’t about him.

\---

   Stephen stayed away for two days, ignoring the texts from everyone, not just Tony. He followed Wong’s direction without question, trying to commit himself to the reality that was his life. They were the longest two days he’d felt in a while.

   He should have known he couldn’t do it forever. He was so god damn weak.

  Tony texted him, said he had some questions and he felt helpless but to respond. Because despite everything Tony still deserved answers to the life he had lost, no matter how much Stephen was suffering.

   To his surprise, Tony was…formal. Like their last two interactions had never happened and Stephen found himself feeling grateful. His questions were nothing complicated or even overly personal, no, he found designs in a folder that Bruce, Pepper, and Rhodey couldn’t explain to him and he sincerely wanted to know if he discussed them with Stephen at all.

   He had, only in the barest sense. It was about nanotech and Stephen knew Tony had forgotten some of the ins and outs of it and was desperate to harness that technology in the same way again, especially now that it was an essential part of his suit.

   He didn’t bring up remembering, didn’t bring up their relationship, Stephen didn’t have a panic attack.

   He wondered if this was his future.

   Answering Tony’s questions, pretending they didn’t have a long past, staring into empty, hopeful eyes.

   Stephen pretended not to notice when Tony touched his hand lightly as he prepared to leave, pretended not to hear the whispered, “see you soon, goodnight.”

\---

   The thing about Tony was that his determination, his dedication to getting what he wanted boarded on ruthless. Stephen could pretend all he wanted but Tony wasn’t one to wait forever and it came to a head not three days later.

   He was there, as always, in the Tower, answering his questions when Tony looked at him and smiling a little, eyes alight with familiar curiosity asked, “can I see our home?”

   A lump had formed in Stephen’s throat instantly. He’d told Tony about the Sanctuary, about Wong, about the fact that he could never leave the place permanently and he should have seen this coming, but it still felt like Tony had just smoothly slid a blade into his stomach.

   And the way he had said it, our home, was so much worse. It wasn’t their home anymore, it was Stephen’s and he was weak, so, so weak. He found himself nodding, trying to control his emotions as always.

   He didn’t know it would be that push that sent them both hurtling over the edge.

   Stephen watched silently from the doorway, his entire weight leaned against the frame, in desperate need of support, as Tony took in the room. He hadn’t been here since that day, choosing the uniform guest rooms, but it was clear Wong had been in. It was tidy, which was the first give away, bed made, and clothes picked up, the curtains were open and the windows too, which Stephen found himself grateful for.

   It hurt. More than he expected.

   Every inch of this room was rife with memories that now came with a bitter sting. Their bed, where Tony would make love to him constantly, the chairs in front of the fireplace where they settled after nightmares, the work desk where Stephen would watch Tony tinker, the mess that was the closet, the pictures scattered about, the bookshelf that was half magical texts and half about machinery and experimental physics.

   Watching Tony make a slow circuit of the room, knowing he had none of those precious memories, saw only furniture and hints of their union, was worse then most deaths Stephen had faced to date.

   Tony paused in front of his desk, picking up one of the small mechanisms still sitting there like he was going to return to it at any moment, turning it over in his hands, a small smile on his face. He set it back a moment later, fingers ghosting across the dresser and the nightstand until it was resting on a pillow, Tony’s side, looking down for a moment as though imagining himself there. He moved on until he was looking at their massive bookshelf and shot Stephen an amused smile.

   “Why do we have a bookshelf up here if there is literally a library downstairs?”

   Stephen gave a tight smile of his own, “the ones downstairs are for work and Wong would kill us if we mixed it with our personal collection.”

   Tony shrugged and picked up a photo sitting on top, making his stomach twist sickly and tears sting his eyes because he could already see the question forming and it fucking hurt, “who’s this?”

   “My sister,” he murmured.

   His tone must have given something away because Tony set it down quickly without a word and found himself moving toward the fireplace and the chairs, brows furrowed as he looked down at them, “this…”

   Stephen focused entirely on him, pain forgotten in a flash as he spotted the confusion in Tony’s eyes, “what is it?”

   “Nothing.”

   Tony looked up then, eyes on him and for once the curiosity was gone, instead they were leaden with some other emotion Stephen couldn’t name. He approached, Stephen hadn’t left the doorway, unwilling to enter the familiar room, until Tony was standing directly in front of him, seemingly searching his face for something.

   It was unexpected as it was terrifying.

   Tony’s hand was suddenly in his hair, tugging him into a soft, careful, _explorative_ kiss and Stephen’s mind short-circuited.

   In a flash he forgot the amnesia, the weeks of hurt, every inch of him focused on the feeling of Tony pressed against him. He could have sobbed with how much he had missed this, his heart beating wildly and his own hands coming to rest on Tony’s chest, desperation seeping into his own movements. He missed him, missed touching and feeling and having.

   But this was wrong.

   It felt _wrong_.

   With a hard gasp Stephen shoved Tony back, making him stumble a bit. He leaned heavily against the doorway again, staring at Tony who was panting and looking at him with this gleam of _want_ and that almost made Stephen feel sick.

   “Why did you do that?” Stephen demanded.

   Tony blinked harshly, eyes widening as though just realizing what he had done, “I’m sorry-”

   “Why?” Stephen asked again, trying to keep the pleading from his voice, but it _hurt_ , like his heart was being torn in half.

   Tony shook his head, “I don’t, I’m not sure-”

   “Stop it,” Stephen snapped. “Tell me why.”

   “I just,” Tony motioned around the room helplessly, toward Stephen himself. “I see it you know? I see us. I wasn’t thinking but I just see what we were and fuck it _I want_ it.”

   Stephen welcomed the wave of anger that washed through him, refreshing in its volatile nature, so sick of aching and missing. It gave his mind a sharp edge, pushing the other emotions away as he focused all on Tony, “so what? You thought you would just kiss me and what exactly?”

   Tony blew a frustrated sigh himself, “I’m sorry, I mean it, I shouldn’t have done that. But these past few days, we’ve been talking and-”

   “What?” Stephen demanded again. “Tony you aren’t…you don’t _know_ me.”

   And it was true, Stephen had been using these past few days like a crutch. He thought it had been worth it to have some small part of him, to be his friend if he couldn’t have him as his partner anymore but he couldn’t. Tony didn’t know about April, or Dormammu, or Kamar-Taj or what happened exactly on Titan. He didn’t understand the nightmares Stephen had, or how he hated to be touched sometimes, or that he liked tea more than coffee.

   He knew what Tony was thinking, what he wanted to do here. Tony had been talking to the Avengers and all he hears is how good they were together, how happy they were, and he could see the yearning in Tony’s eyes, knew how desperate he was for a life like that. Tony wanted to try again, if he couldn’t remember he wanted it all anew.

   But it hit Stephen with a startling clarity that stole his breath and pierced his heart, that _he_ didn’t want that. He had so many memories, wonderful, painful memories, of them falling love, learning each other, and he couldn’t just pretend they hadn’t existed, didn’t want to.

  The Tony standing in front of him right now looking both desperate and fearful was not the Tony Stark he fell in love with.

   Memories make a person. You are shaped by each and every experience you have had throughout the years by events big and small. They shape compassion and hatred and determination and love and appreciation. Tony lost the Snap, he lost Thanos, he lost inventions and experiences, he lost Stephen, and now he wasn’t the same man.

   Stephen had been playing the fool.

   His Tony was gone and the man who had replaced him was relatively healthy and stable. Didn’t bare any of that trauma and the price for such a miracle was for Stephen to pay and pay it he would. But he would do so by putting both of them out of their misery.

   “Leave.”

   “Stephen-”

   “I said leave. I can’t give you want you want, you aren’t mine anymore and pretending…trying with you won’t be enough for me,” Stephen hoped the tremble in his voice couldn’t be heard.

   Tony was looking at him wide-eyed and desperate, “I _want_ to remember,” he whispered. “If we just-”

   “Tony,” now his voice broke, the first time he let himself show so much emotion in front of Tony, knew his eyes had gone glassy. “You said you knew this must be hard for me, you tried giving us both space and you were right. Please just stop, please, you’re _killing_ me.”

   He swallowed thickly, Tony’s hand twitching and almost making Stephen’s heart stop before he gave a sharp nod, expression tortured, “I’m sorry.”

   Just like that he was gone, fleeing from the room and the Sanctuary. The thought of stopping him didn’t even cross Stephen’s mind, having slid to the floor in exhaustion. He didn’t cry, no he was certain he was no longer capable of feeling with how hollow he felt as he stared at the room that was once supposed to be his future but was now firmly in his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hasn't come close to achieving what I wanted it to. This is definitely a case of me biting off more than I can chew, and I can only hope it at least serves some expectations.


	6. Remember Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been happier to finish a story lol.

   Stephen woke slowly, eyes fixated on the sunlight streaming through his window, hands laid out carefully on his stomach where they ached horribly. He had over done it the night before, too much magic, too much practicing. Wong had lectured him, but Stephen didn’t care, the pain had felt nice, familiar where too few things did these days.

   He hadn’t seen Tony for nearly a week now, since he had kissed him, and he told him to leave. Stephen wished he could say he didn’t miss him but that wasn’t how the world worked, that wasn’t how he and Tony had ever worked. Rhodey called him once a day with an update and Stephen was beginning to wonder when he should tell the man to stop.

   Tony had locked himself away in his workshop, eating and sleeping decently enough, hadn’t said a word about Stephen or his memory, no symptoms presenting. It was what Stephen had wanted, what he knew was right for Tony, but it still hurt like hell.

   The Cloak fluttered into view, looking down at him like a disappointed parent and it managed to bring a smile to his face despite himself. He had slept in, that much was obvious, which was strange given Wong’s usually strict regiment. He supposes he needed it.

   He sat up and swung his long legs over the side, stretching his neck and his shoulders, trying and failing to keep his fingers immobile. The small spasms that travelled up his arm was bearable, typical. Tony used to watch for it, knowing Stephen wouldn’t say anything, and take them into his own hands where he would massage them gently. Such a stupid thing to miss.

   He stood, groaning a little and waited patiently, with a muttered spell for his tunic to ravel around him, eyes closed and playing the memories of Tony carefully dressing him in it, demanding he not use magic before breakfast. He was getting pathetic.

  The Cloak attached itself to his shoulders, and he smiled at its embrace. It had been clingy lately and he got the distinct feeling it missed Tony too, sensed that he wouldn’t be back any time soon. As he left the room and made his way down the hallway, he valiantly tried to keep his gaze away from the door, his door. He hadn’t been able to go back in there since he’d brought Tony and he had noticed Wong subtly moving his belongings. He tried not to be irrational about it.

   Stephen was distantly aware that since their altercation something had changed. Perhaps it was him accepting the inevitable, the reality of the situation. He’d lost Tony. The realization had felt like having his soul ripped in two, like losing the reason to keep breathing.

   He had said it would be easier if Tony was dead. Now it was like he was.

   Most of his days felt hollow. Then when a memory would hit or an update about Tony came at just the wrong time he was gifted with hot iron to the heart. He shouldn’t complain though, really, this was better than the alternative or so he kept telling himself.

   Wong wordlessly held out a cup of tea the moment Stephen entered the kitchen. He looked tired and Stephen felt a pang of guilt for the trouble he caused the man, but he was too grateful for all he had been doing to voice it.

   “I want to talk to you about something.”

   Stephen leaned back against the counter, blowing on his tea and nodding at his companion to go on. Wong frowned and Stephen figured it was because he didn’t say much these days and that apparently required a verbal response.

   Wong sipped his tea a moment before setting it down with a sigh, “I looked into the possibility of a temporary change of placement.”

   That was enough to startle Stephen into answering, “what?”

   Wong shook his head, “you’ve been doing good Stephen. Better than I anticipated honestly, but maybe getting out of New York for a little while would be good for you.”

   Stephen’s first instinct was to vehemently deny it. He felt the separation of him and Tony keenly and the prospect of putting even more space between them was excruciating. Instead, he sipped the tea, wincing a little when it scalded his tongue, tried to think of it logically.

   He was getting better at separating his emotions from his decisions. He wished he had learned that skill earlier. Stephen couldn’t imagine what benefit he would get from leaving for a temporary position. The Sanctum would still be here, with these memories haunting its halls, with Tony Stark the man he was supposed to have a future with painfully close.

   For a split second he thought about asking for a permeant place instead.

   He knew it would be denied, however, since Thanos. Stephen was expected to be the messenger and contact between Kamar-Taj and the Avengers, add on top of that his role as protector of the Stone and he wasn’t going anywhere for long.

   Yet.

   Maybe a break would be nice. Maybe with some distance he could find away to make it hurt a little less, numb the ache. If Stephen was honest, he was getting a bit desperate. Holding up a front wasn’t easy, and he feared it could only last so long.

   “Ok.”

   Wong’s eyes ran over him, assessing. Stephen sipped his tea until the man gave a curt nod, “I’ll speak to Kamar-Taj and the Masters and see what your options are.”

   He watched him go in silence. He felt a little sick.

   Stephen dutifully made his way to the sitting room, where on the coffee table sat a heavy tome, he had been painstakingly translating for days now. It was in Hebrew, which Stephen still struggled with, but included some fascinating insights. Turned out it had been rescued from the Library of Alexandria not two days before the burning. It was a distraction at least.

   Stephen had only been at it a couple of hours when his phone buzzed, sending a wave of dread through him. He picked it up all the same, to see Rhodey’s name flashing on the screen.

   “Hello?”

   “Hey,” Rhodey sounded distinctly out of breath and Stephen couldn’t help but tense at the prospect of a battle. “Just calling to give an update.”

   Stephen relaxed back into the cushions, trembling finger poised gently over the line he was on, “you did that yesterday,” he pointed out.

   “I know.”

   Stephen paused, expecting something more but when none was forthcoming, he gave a sigh, “is there anything to update me _on_?”

   He could practically feel Rhodey’s apprehension, “look man, its been a week.”

   Stephen’s heart gave a leap, eyes falling closed in anticipation of what would come next, “I know.”

   Rhodey’s tone was shockingly gentle, “I don’t know what happened and its not my business…I just…listen, when I call and update you, Tony always asks to know how your doing too. Whatever it is, he’s still trying over here-”

   “I’m going away,” the words tumbled from his mouth automatically, a defensive response to the torment those words caused him.

   “What?”

   Stephen took a deep breath, trying to force out the words that needed to be said, “I’ve been reassigned. It isn’t permanent but it is extended. He should be…trying to readjust to life.”

   There was silence over the line and then, “that sounds an awful lot like running.”

   When did they get so familiar? Stephen had been trying so hard not to wallow in self-pity, not to let himself get caught up in everything he lost, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking, from saying quietly, “haven’t I done enough to deserve it?”

   Rhodey paused again and Stephen knew the man wasn’t one for dealing with emotional problems, especially ones as complicated and fucked to all hell as this but it still made his eyes burn when he murmured, “yeah, I guess you have.”

   Stephen found himself smiling sadly, though it couldn’t be seen, “I’m glad he has you, take care of him alright?”

   It was a goodbye in no uncertain terms, and he knew Rhodey could hear the unspoken command that this be their last phone call. He heard the man inhale, then in what he had come to associate over the years with his captain voice, “I promise. I got him now.”

   Stephen hung up, willing himself not to cry. If there was anyone, he could count on to watch over him, it was Rhodey and he knew when the man made a promise, it was not to be taken lightly. Swallowing thickly, Stephen turned his attention back to the book in his lap, blinking away the tears and letting the Cloak wipe them from his cheeks.

\---

   Evening came as slowly as ever, the days having a tendency to drag as of late. It was only made worse by the fact he had to rest his hands and couldn’t do his usual practices. Wong was still absent, and Stephen had noticed him doing it more often, as though trying to help him readjust to being on his own, to being lonely. He needed to talk to the man about treating him like an experiment.

   He was staring at the Cloak which was in turn blocking the exit of the kitchen in a decidedly hostile manner, which was its way of saying he hadn’t eaten enough, when his phone rang for the second time that day.

   He had turned away from the Cloak with a sigh only to freeze at the name on the screen, Bruce. The man called him occasionally, but he expected Rhodey to have passed the message along. A wave of foreboding moved through him as answered.

   He didn’t need to even say anything before Bruce was speaking quickly.

   “Stephen? Thank god, we need your help.”

   The Cloak latched onto his shoulders and Stephen’s entire body tensed, “what’s going on?”

   “Tony locked himself in the lab and he’s about to do something stupid. He rewired FRIDAY, so she won’t listen to me-”

   “What is he about to do?” Stephen interrupted, his blood turning to ice in his veins.

   “The nanites,” Bruce said briskly. “You know the experiments he had been doing before all this happened, about utilizing them in healthcare? He’s gone and injected them directly into his head to try and fix-”

   “ _What?!”_ Stephen snapped, already taking out his sling ring as panic shot through him.

   “I told him how dangerous, how stupid it was but-”

   “I’m going directly into the lab,” was all Stephen said before hanging up and raising his arm.

   Trying to calm his breathing and his mind Stephen visualized Tony’s lab until the sparks fizzled to life. He stepped through immediately, head spinning wildly as he searched for Tony in the dimly lit room.

   “Tony?” he called out, not seeing the man.

   “Stephen?” he barely heard it, nothing but a whisper but Stephen latched onto it, swinging toward the workbench and rounding it.

   He froze for a moment at the sight before him. Tony was on the floor, slumped heavily against the metal table, limp and eyes only half open, but that wasn’t the worst part. There was a large red indent on the side of his head, and a steady stream of blood sliding down his pale face. In his hand was the needle he no doubt used to inject himself with.

   Stephen was on his knees in an instant, Cloak pressing one of its corners tightly to Tony’s head, while he grabbed the needle and stored it in a pocket just in case, “you idiot,” he hissed, heartbeat erratic in his chest. “What did you do?”

   A dopy half smile reached his lips and Stephen wanted to cry, “had to, you…were…gonna…leave.”

    Stephen’s breath caught, almost demanded answers but stopped himself, “FRIDAY begin full diagnostic scan, tell Bruce and Rhodey to meet me in the med day, now.”

   “Right away Dr. Strange.”

   He didn’t waste time contemplating why Bruce had been denied access and not him, instead opening a portal directly back to a hospital room at the compound and he was so sick of that place at this point.

   “Levi,” his Cloak immediately scooped him up like a ragdoll and slipped Tony through the portal and deposited him on one of the beds.

   The doors to the room swung open and Bruce and Rhodey came rushing in, looking dishevelled and no better then Stephen at the moment, “Rhodey tell me what the hell happened, Bruce explain these fucking nanites.”

   Stephen snatched one of the flashlights on the table and lifted Tony’s eye lid, watching as his pupils reacted sluggishly, “shit.” He muttered.

   Bruce was already hooking him up to machines and Rhodey was standing at the edge of the bed looking lost, “Rhodey _now_ ,” he snapped.

   Rhodey met his eyes, startled, “I don’t know. He was fine, working in the lab like always. I mentioned you were leaving and he just kind of…I don’t know. He was fine though; I mean he seemed disappointed but that was it.”

   “The nanites!” Bruce exclaimed. “That’s what he was working on all week. He wouldn’t tell me before and its probably because he knew I’d say they were too dangerous.”

   “FRIDAY,” Stephen watching trying to keep his composure, his pulse was slow but steady, a good sign. “What are the nanites doing to him?”

   There was a pause then, “it appears that they aren’t doing anything sir. The boss is experiencing fatigue, and the nanites seemed to have forced him into sleep to improve his health. The place of injection is already healing as they should. No immediate health risk incoming.”

   “Wait, so he’s ok right?” Rhodey asked.

   Stephen stumbled over to one of the chairs, sitting heavily as relief followed by exhaustion swept through him, eyes on Tony’s still and sleeping form, “he’s alright.”

   Bruce was still hooking him up, checking scans, and Stephen was more then happy to let him be, as he tried to stop the trembling that wasn’t from his chronic injuries for once.

   Rhodey’s eyes suddenly lit up with hope, “FRIDAY, said the nanites were helping him though. Wasn’t that the point? Does that mean when he wakes up, he might-”

   “Impossible to tell,” Bruce cut in, glancing at Stephen, which he pretended not to see. “Either way, whatever it does, there isn’t anything we can do about it now.”

   Slowly tension seeped away, all of them staring at Tony’s sleeping form with various levels of concern. Stephen was so, so tired of it all. He glanced over at Rhodey, only to find the man looking at him, apology in his eyes. Stephen just shook his head.

   He’d already decided he’d be staying until the man woke up.

   Despite himself, despite knowing all of this could have been for nothing, Stephen felt a small tendril of hope, soft and warm, unfurl in his chest.

\---

   Tony slept for a long time.

   Stephen found himself drinking up every inch of his face, trying to memorize it. Bruce and Rhodey had just left to get some food. The three of them had barely said anything to each other for the past three hours, all of them waiting to see what state Tony would be in he woke up.

   Stephen had just been nodding off in his chair next to the bed when a low groan sounded from its inhabitant. He jerked upright, eyes locked on to where Tony’s head shifted minutely from side to side, lips beginning the process of fluttering open.

   He knew he should say something, to reassure him, to let him know where he was, but Stephen found himself frozen, waiting with bated breath. Tony turned toward him, familiar brown eyes opening to look at him, brow furrowed, “Stephen?”

   “Yeah,” he said thickly.

   For one glorious moment, as a soft smile spread over his lips, Stephen believed his nightmare was over, no matter the consequences.

   Then Tony’s expression crumpled, eyes lighting up with realization, tears crowding them as a sob slipped out, pinning Stephen to his chair as despair hit him like a train. Tony was immediately sitting up, gripping his hair harshly and tugging with a cry that was downright haunting, born of horrible mix of desperation and frustration, “it didn’t _work.”_

   Stephen knew he had no hope in hell of hiding the tears in his eyes. How many times could a man go through such emotional devastation without it destroying him? Stephen was beginning to think he was reaching his limit.

   “Its ok,” he tried to choke out.

   Tony looked at him then, expression stormy with the range of emotion, “its _not_ , stop saying it is. I was going to remember, and all this bullshit would have been over, we could have-” he cut off, teeth clenching hard.

   Stephen bit his lip harshly, needing the moment of clarity the pain brought, “Tony, your _life_ almost ended tonight.”

   Tony shook his head, looking at him with eyes that were shockingly dead, “my life already ended.”

   “Don’t,” Stephen broke in, steel finally entering his voice. “Don’t do that. Your life wasn’t worth those memories.”

   “You don’t get it Stephen!” his hands were clenching into fists and distantly Stephen knew this couldn’t be healthy after what he just went though but if he was honest, he looked better then he last saw him. “I lost everything. I don’t want to just pick up and restart.”

   Stephen was beginning to think he really didn’t get it. He knew Tony was stubborn, knew how much the man like to have control over his own life but this…he knew what he’d be getting as part of the deal and he still wasn’t backing down.

   “Tony,” he tried helplessly. “What made you do it?”

   Tony stared at him for a long moment, expression boarding on devastation before he said in a voice so incredibly broken it speared his heart, “I found a ring.”

   It was _too much_.

   Stephen sobbed, hands coming up to cover his eyes even as he curled in on himself, Cloak tightening around him. He didn’t have to look up to know Tony was crying too, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I loved you so much, I know I did and I’m sorry I can’t make it right.”

_“What do you think about going out to dinner tonight? Somewhere nice?”_

   “I wanted that,” Tony said. “I wanted to _feel_ that.”

   Stephen couldn’t help the small flinch as arms wrapped around him, a familiar smell and feeling, but he quickly found himself leaning into it, knowing with a new kind of certainty that this would be the last time he felt it.

   He didn’t know how long he sat there in his embrace. Eventually the tears slowed even as that ever-present ache continued to attack him, and Stephen tried to desperately regain the composure he’d been crafting these past few days.

   “You can make it right,” Stephen managed to croak after a moment and Tony was backing away, shiny eyes looking at him eager and desperate to please. Stephen made his expression stern as he could manage, gripping the man’s shirt harshly. “Don’t do it again. Stop trying. Make the most of this life and stop _hurting us_ both.”

   He saw the denial flash in those eyes, watched it waver in the face of Stephen’s demand, was relieved when he saw it sink into resignation.

   Stephen took a shuddering breath, stood and pulled him into a final hug, murmuring in his ear, “thank you.”

   He disappeared through is portal without a backwards glance.

\---

   Stephen expected Wong to be angry.

   He wasn’t. Instead, the man stood there looking at him in the middle of the night and soundlessly handed him a piece of paper listing the available positions for him to transfer to. Stephen picked one at random, couldn’t even remember what came out of his mouth, he just knew it was cold and solitary, exactly what he needed.

   He trudged up the stairs and into his bed, in a haze. Only the Cloak hugging him kept him grounded and as he lay there in the dark, staring at the moon hanging heavy outside his window, he didn’t allow himself to think, simply began reciting all the futures he had seen that were so much better than this one in the end.

   He imagined himself far far away, imagined Tony and him standing at an alter saying their vows, imagined what their honeymoon would have been like, imagined how it would feel to wear his ring on his finger, imagined a world in which he would have grown old with him, happy and content forever.

   It was nice to dream.

\---

   It was three days later when Stephen was pulled abruptly from his reading, trying to decide which would be handier where he was going, by pounding on the Sanctum door. He tensed automatically, his Cloak fluttering into the room expectantly, since they rarely had kind visitors bang on their door like that.

   His fingers shifted, prepared to form his shields, as he approached wearily, the pounding beginning again. He briefly touched the Eye around his neck, sensing the spell protecting the Stone was still strong.

   The moment he swung the large oak door open, however, he found himself staring wide-eyed into the last thing he had expected to see. Standing on his stoop was Tony, clad only in sweats and a t-shirt, clearly just having exited a suit and he was glaring at him with barely contained rage and betrayal.

   “How could you?” he growled.

   Hands connect with his chest, shoving him back and letting Tony step into the Sanctum, Stephen stumbled, staring at him in confusion and fucking _aching_ again.

   “How could you?” he demanded again, this time with eyes shining with tears.

   Something clicked.

   There was no reason for it, no clues or indicators but something in Stephen just knew and suddenly tears were springing up in his eyes as he asked in disbelief, “Tony?”

   “You idiot,” hands grabbed at his tunic and yanked him into a hard hug. “You fucking idiot, you were gonna leave me.”

   Stephen’s mouth opened on a wordless sob, burying his face in Tony’s neck, distantly aware of the door closing, as he cried into the skin, broken hands clutching desperately at the man in his arms, despite the pain.

   Tony’s grip around him was crushing, like he feared Stephen would just disappear if he let go and it seemed they both had too much because they were suddenly on the floor wrapped tightly around one another. Tony was still talking, and Stephen could only barely make out the words around his cries because this was _Tony_ , his Tony.

   Stephen didn’t know what to feel what to think around the emotions hammering through him in a mess so strong it hurts. But he pulls back, hands landing on either side of Tony’s face as he tearfully searched his expression.

   His eyes. His warm brown eyes that are filled with hurt and tears and _recognition._ Still, the words bubble out because its been too long and he’s been through too much, he can’t survive this again.

   “Prove it.”

   Tony’s expression crumples and his own hands are cupping Stephen’s face as he glares at him, “Dormammu.”

   Stephen _breaks_.

   He knows he’s speaking, saying the same phrases over and over again, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you, I love you.”

   Soon enough they are being parroted back at him and warm lips are pressing against his, familiar prickling of his goatee, and its night and day to the kiss from before. Its right, its all so god damn right he doesn’t know how to breathe.

\---

   It was the nanites. Turned out they just needed a few days to kick in and repair the brain stem where the trauma was originated. Stephen doesn’t care, about the rushed explanation as he pressed close to Tony in their bed, in _their_ room. Tony’s touches are like sunlight, like euphoria. His kisses are intoxicating, a liquor he never thought he’d taste again, the rocking of his body against his, the moans, and the I love’s yous making up the sweetest lullaby he ever knew.

   Bit by bit, he began feeling whole again.

\---

   Tony’s hand is stroking through his sweaty hair and Stephen still feels like he might cry at any second, but it doesn’t stop him from clinging to Tony’s side. There is a weight between them, a heaviness in words unspoken that he wishes they could ignore forever.

   They can’t.

   Its only right that Tony speaks first.

   “Why?” he breaths in his ear, painfilled and confused. “Why did you give up on me?”

   Stephen closed his eyes against the words, “I’m sorry.”

   “Stephen, please,” the pleading in his tone betrayed that he needed an answer.

   “I…I was trying to help you. Tony, you didn’t have the symptoms of PTSD at all.”

   Tony moved abruptly, rolling over and straddling Stephen’s hips, gaze intense as he stared down at him, “if you think I’d trade you, or remembering how Peter’s grown up for that then you really don’t know how much I love you.”

   Tony ducked down to kiss him again and Stephen arched into it gladly, only to feel him pull away a moment later, one hand stroking his cheek slowly, then to Stephen’s horror he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

   “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Stephen said immediately.

   Tony was already shaking his head, “I forgot you. There is no bigger crime then that, I hurt you, and I promised I never would.”

   “It wasn’t your fault.”

   Tony lowered his head to Stephen’s, murmured softly, “marry me. Don’t let me forget you again. Keep me by your side, don’t let me slip away.”

   The fear was palatable, as though he were worried that at any moment, he’d lose it all again and Stephen forgot, hadn’t considered how terrified he must have been. He pulled him into a hard kiss once more, whispering over and over again against his lips his own promise, “ _yes.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are familiar with my work you'll know I either do sad endings (me, myself and I) or quickly wrapped up endings (Madness and Carnage, Flickering of the Flame) so this is a first for me. I hope it makes up for all the angst I've put you all through, I know its been a difficult ride.   
> I think I learned this was a tad too ambitious of me, so I think I'll keep things more manageable in the future lol.   
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love you hear what people think so far!


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